Code Veronica: Resident Evil IIIS

Chapter One: Prisoner #833225

Sometimes I don't know why I even bother writing anything in this book, since nothing ever changes in this place, and I would honestly prefer not to remember most of the significant events that take place. I've also completely lost track of what day it is, although I did figure out a way to count the weeks, since all of us prisoners here are allowed to have a shower once a week, and I just had my eleventh one since arriving. Just about three months, so I guess it's maybe December now? I have been able to see my breath lately, so it could be, and the shower water has been so cold that one of the others had to be taken away for hypothermia.

They kept him in there, you know… I could hear him begging to be let out, but the guards just kept laughing and hitting him every time he tried to get out from under the freezing stream until he just… he just collapsed. This happened again and again, although not everyone who was tortured like this got sick from it, but when my turn was coming up, one of the guards said that maybe he could be persuaded to let me use the heated shower in the guardhouse, if… if I would do a certain favor for him. My self-respect was one of the first things they took from me here, and I would rather be ashamed of myself than lose my life, but… but at least it felt good to have a warm shower.

Rockfort Island is not a good place, especially for an attractive woman with blonde hair, not that anyone who would give a damn is ever likely to read this journal. Anyway, if its December now, then that mean's I have been here for just about three months… wow, three months since my whole life turned into a poorly written episode of The Twilight Zone. I wasn't always here, you know… in fact, my life was completely normal until my twenty third birthday, when I had finally saved up enough money to move out of my parents' home, riding off on my motorcycle to make it big in the big city.

Okay, Raccoon City wasn't exactly big, and going to Community College wasn't exactly a glamorous success story, but instead of realizing my dreams upon arrival, I was flung headfirst into what I told myself for a long time was a nightmare. It wasn't though; the dead were walking the ruined streets of that necropolis, and somehow I managed to ride my motorcycle right into the deepest part of it. I would have died pretty quickly if not for being rescued by a man named Tobias Liquid, who was the Lieutenant in charge of the RPD's Homicide Division, and one of the department's last survivors.

Together we fought our way through the zombie-infested streets, locating other survivors along the way, and discovering that Tobias was heavily infected with a manufactured bio-weapon called the T-Virus. It was different for him though; a scientist from the Umbrella Corporation, who had apparently made the virus, said that because of his exposure to something called P-Epsilon gas, the Lieutenant was actually able to consume large amounts of the virus, with his body somehow able to metabolize the cells into temporary burst of power that looked almost superhuman.

That scientist was killed before she could explain it further, as was just about everyone else the two of us encountered that night, all thanks to some kind of Special Forces unit from Umbrella. Instead of killing us, they put us in chains, forcing me and Tobias onto separate helicopters, mine which brought me to this place, while the Lieutenant… I have no idea where he is exactly. What I do know is that the people here are keeping me alive to ensure his cooperation with some kind of experiment at the place Tobias is being held, and they prove it with a brief video-conference call once a month.

Don't get me wrong, there is a strong difference between the words alive and safe, with the second one not applying to me since the moment I arrived. It must be humiliating on its own for a prisoner to have to remove their clothes in front of everyone, and change into a cheaply made orange prison jumpsuit, but that goes double for a woman, when she has to do that while the guards are whistling and cat-calling her. Once I was dressed, I was taken to my cell, and there the guards beat the hell out of my legs with their batons to show me that there was no sex-discrimination here.

They left me there all night, lying on the stone floor of my cell, unable to walk… not that I needed to go very far in order to pass out. My cell is nothing but a bare room with concrete walls, some bars where the door is, and a toilet along with… nothing else at all. Wasn't asleep very long, though, before the first time I heard the screams, and although it was muffled since they were coming from outside the building, the owner of the voice sounded so agonized and scared that I couldn't help crying… which the guards thought was hilarious for some reason.

After a few days my legs got better to the point where I was able to get up on my own, not that I was moving very fast, and this was also the first time that I was fed since my arrival… so I was starving to the point of drooling when I saw him carrying a plate of what they fed the prisoners. He knew that I was desperate and hungry, but instead of feeding me like a decent human being, he wasted time by telling me how lucky I was to be sequestered in this place instead of in the general population, and how my status as a Control Hold, which I gather is a fancy term for Hostage, kept me safe from a lot of things done to the others.

I didn't know what was happening to the other prisoners, and at the moment I didn't care, I just needed food… which he said he was more than happy to let me have, if only I would do a certain favor for him. It's strange… I remember going through the hell of Raccoon City with Tobias, and thinking to myself that the monsters there were the worst things in the world… but I was wrong. As horrific as they were, at least the monsters were honest about what they were… but Human Beings could be so much worse.

If you really feel like it, you can judge me for doing what the guard wanted, but all I could think about after four days without eating was, well… eating. Don't worry, I felt plenty ashamed of myself later on, but at least I got to eat, not that the food was anything special. Every day the prisoners here are fed some kind of whitish colored slop that looks like stale mashed potatoes, and tastes like it was burnt even though it's cold and uncooked. You get used to it after a while, so long as you close your eyes and hold your nose while eating it, but… but one thing I haven't gotten used to is the screams.

Seriously, it's like every night they pick one of the prisoners at random, age and gender not mattering much, and just torture the living daylights out of them for some reason. Every other week or so another helicopter arrives on the island, usually carrying supplies or new prisoners, and since my cell in in the building closest to the landing pad, I get to hear every terrible sound that comes from the in-processing of new inmates. Sometimes they shoot one to scare the others into obedience, or sometimes… sometimes they get taken to see Sir Alfred Ashford, the Commander of Rockfort Island.

I met him about a week after I arrived, and between his squeaky voice and attitude of being superior to everyone, the man is a complete weirdo. He once had me put on a very expensive formal dress so that it could be altered for his sister, since apparently she and I are about the same build… never actually seen her, but apparently she liked the dress… and then Alfred had me whipped so that I would remember my place. I have to see him every month during the video-conference call that proves I'm still alive, and thankfully he doesn't pay much attention to me, but I heard that's because he plays for the other team, if you get my meaning.

The guards have been heard talking about how Alfred has had young men taken somewhere late at night, especially the prettier looking ones; now it could be for his sister, but not likely based on the guy's whole personality, and I'm a sequestered prisoner, so it's not like I can just go and ask those young men myself. I thought about asking one of the guards, but then he might just as well want another favor in exchange for information, so I decided to just keep to myself… well, that's not really possible ever since they brought in the new girl a couple hours ago.

I really must be losing my mind; here I am rambling off my whole life story, completely forgetting to write down that I was given a cellmate from the new arrivals that came in on the latest helicopter. Like always the whistling and cat-calling was heard as she changed into her jumpsuit, along with really tight fitting security collar that I almost forgot to mention, and I don't know what this girl did to make everyone so mad, but they were being incredibly rough on her while bringing her in.

She must have been a biter, since there was a black bag over her head, muffling the sounds of her screams when they gave her legs the same workout that I had been given, but with the added bonus of ripping the bag off her face just in time for her lip to be split open when one of the baton's was brought across her mouth. I had been ordered to be on my knees, facing the other wall with my hands flat against the stone, so I couldn't see this beating… not that I wanted to… and then they told me that it was my job to make sure she remembers her identification number and teach her how things work here.

Not stopping with her legs, the guards had beaten her arms and body too, leaving the young woman crying and coughing on the stone floor, unable to even use her hands, probably because of how tightly the handcuffs had been on, judging by the deep marks on her wrists. Her reddish brown hair was all down in her face, with her blue eyes kind of swimming around a bit from dizziness and agony, but at least she was alive. Unfortunately for Prisoner #WKD4496, she was really pretty, as well, meaning that she was gonna have a bad time in this place. She was able to tell me her name before passing out, though… Claire Redfield.

After hearing nothing but my prison numbers for so long, it was a strange feeling to hear a real name being spoken, not that Claire was going to be able to use it any more often than I'm able to use mine. I do have one, by the way, and it's not Prisoner #833225… its Elza Walker.