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First half of RE3 written bleaker and like a fairytale gone horribly wrong. A more Dom!Nemmy totally going for the hate? smut err edging there. AU and total character death because I'm a horrible, horrible person. Dark fic with a dash of fairytale.

FFFFUUUU- with every happy fic a dark fic rears its head.

Does NOT own Nemesis nor Jill, nor have any bearing on the Resident Evil series, blah blah you know full well the evil that would happen if I did Capcom. Don't front.

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The World is Ending

The maiden of our tale is like any other; living binds pin her down, the wolf it seems her captor. Tall with a deathly gaze she could only look up in struggle. She had ran; ran so hard and for so, so long; she was tired. The wolf's teeth permanently exposed for the world to see, black leather the coat of choice. He loomed omnipresent towering over her whether there or not, his howls carrying in the wind. He who's only purpose, no, desire is to catch his prey, the promise of violence in his leather bound hands.

Shall we rewind the tape? To the start of this tale? To when this world actually existed?

He had already eaten; her aloof friend clad in yellow, he had no chance, no escape. With a lipless grin said man was rent like a lamb, his screams dying out in the September air. Our maid had backed up then, the look of hunger on him insatiable, the wolf's coat coated in gore past and present. But our maiden wasn't completely at a loss; the maiden was raised up among hunters her skill with a gun as good if not better than most. And so she fired upon that wolf in his mockery of a smile, his colorless gaze showing no register of pain, if only the pleasure of a fresh kill.

The maiden knew that this wolf was not like the others – he was beyond hunting for sheep, he was beyond the quivering, fearing villagers that number little to none in this hellish town. He wanted the maid that sat firing bullets that were nothing but pebbles. The gleam in his eye told the maid than he would not stop the hunt, not until he had her as his conquest.

And so she ran. Ran hard ran fast; knowing, despising that wolves enjoy a good chase.

Ran harder, finding more powerful guns, more plentiful aid. Eventually our maiden gathers her wits; she shot again at her persistent wolf, his eye gleaming madness along with the staples that reflected the pale moon light. Shooting not so much to kill but to keep him at bay; the result if she failed she dared not think of. She had to, had to keep running! Her escape will be around, she knew it!

The maiden had in fact encountered knights of various alignment, to the brave elder who sacrificed to save her, to the aloof yet charming one with his accented voice, to the dark one who was stringing along machinations despite the state of their world. Doesn't he in his evil know? Doesn't he care?

The world is ending.

The sky already has fallen; the carriage that was to save the maiden, to return her to safe castles far away was destroyed, destroyed by the wolf, the damn wolf! He had taken on the powers of a dragon, letting the thing explode in a ball of fire, death, and wreckage. The look of triumph, mixed with pure fury and dare she admit it, almost an admonishment towards her upon his cruel horrid features – that he was going to punish her now. That this game, this chase was his to start and his to end.

A knight, her brown knight with his rich distinct voice that only wanted to protect his princess stepped in. The wolf roared at this interruption, this person doesn't belong in this game. With the power that only a being of pure amorality could, he tossed the knight aside like a rag doll. Tossed him away like extra baggage the knight's campaign ending as his head hit ground. And for a moment there, the maid and wolf sat the hate between them dark, overwhelming. She started first her heart breaking, seeing more fall just to protect her…no more!

He responded by impaling her then, not a bite, or a swipe, merely stabbing her. The action was barely an investment of his energy or time. She slumped to the ground, angry at such a move; the wolf marking her like property. She fought her wolf, her dragon, her demon, what form he decided upon in this dying, dead world. Fought him hard, not holding back the fury at his hunting, his mad courtship in this hell.

The world is ending all around us.

With a shocked gasp the wolf's legs fell from under him, the curtain of blackness overwhelming. If he could fear this would be the time. The time where for once he was at her mercy. As he fell she glared downward. Glared at the wolf clad in straps and buckles, face down in his own blood. The maiden felt compelled then, almost like a separate force moving her. She ran her hand along the wolf's scalp, his skin wrinkled, fraying, scared. The claws, the purple wormlike claws were still, they as much a part of him as his was of them. The feel of the leather denoted warmth still there, the size and in a sort of demonic way the graceful muscular build of his features.

She was tired. All the running, the pain. She was so, so tired. She sat on top of him, the cold night air biting her battered, bloody, and ragged form. The maiden sat upon him like a trophy - if only she could lift him, cut off his head, mount him. Mount him. She laughed at the dirty thought. The absurdity gave her something to laugh at, something to put her tired mind momentarily at ease. A dark laugh as the world crumbled and each place she held dear was lit up in flames.

The wolf did something right – he made her forget the sorrow of this world dying in front of her. Burning in flames the people never set. Her world, her kingdom, her knights, her life.

The world is ending.

She without thinking lay on top of the wolf, his hide giving her some warmth, some security. That at least one other can even in death sit with her and watch the world burn. The maiden sprawled on his back, laying flush for just a moment. Just a moment before she had to leave. And so she lay, letting a few tears fall, angry at the world, angry that after all she tried to do for it, it was to burn anyway. Burning despite good intentions.

But then, her perch had at once moved. She was flipped off onto the dirty, cold ground, the wolf standing, grinning, grinning at her with that ever present predatory grin. How – how could he have anything to grin about.

The fucking world is ending!

The sky has already fallen, and the town has already had its great fall! Why? The maiden stared back, sitting up from her ungraceful fall. But he hadn't moved. Just followed her with that hateful stare. She tried to move one way, he would shift to that direction. She try to duck, he would duck with her. She was in a corner, the last chase having him fall in a cramped area of the hedge garden. But the wolf was not running. No; if anything a crinkle, just slight was in his eye; do wolves tire after all?

The maiden had used every bit of firepower she had to put down the beast, and now only stood with merely a knife as a weapon. A knife that now glinted in the night. He circled her, his height, his mere presence overwhelming. A lesser one would fear, would tremble. But this maid was not to give him that satisfaction on top of her surprise.

And now the tape is up to speed.

Like a vulture circling carrion the wolf closed in on her, him licking his teeth in visible hunger. The maid despite her resolve shrunk inward the space between her and him shrinking by the by. And then she mentally surmised -

Her world ended.

Then and there he reached not with claw but with an outstretched gloved hand, his left hand moving with shocking speed. The maid with the quick thinking that served her well thus far dodged to his right knowing he wouldn't register as well…the few if any weakness her wolf had. But this wolf as mentioned before wasn't like the others. He expected this, and doubled back, his claws now being used as living binds, wrapping around her retreating waist.

He pulled her to himself, her face pushing closer to his. Her rage rose, the thought of him capturing her again disgusting her. He pulled her closer, till just an inch away. The wolf growled the sound vibrating against her chest. She looked at him fully, her blue eyes agitated and unnerved. Right before our maid stabs the wolf in the nape.

He howls in unexpected pain, as she quickly pulls it out. The motion has him dropping her; she goes to turn but only feels a strong hand force her to the wall of brick behind her. Her escape halted and her front bruised in new found pain, the maid does what she only could – and swings the blade back behind her. But the wolf unlike in fairy tales isn't afraid of things that gleam silver. He catches the whirling blade between his sharp teeth. He lets it slide along his exposed maw, his tongue trailing along the sharp blade. His paws were on her again, gripping her close, him bodily pinning her to the wall.

Despite her loathing, her deep unforgiving loathing of this beast, this monster, she truly became afraid. A camera sat to the side of them, the small thing recording everything, recording all of the last moments of a city whose existence will be no more within hours. And they like everyone else, everything else, is to die along with it.

The world is ending. Don't you realize this Mr. Wolf?

She became afraid that he knew as much as she that the world indeed was ending around them. Why hunt, why run when the end result is the same. We're all going to die down here. And with this knowledge – what would one do to face it? Her blue eyes looked up at the camera; her final moments to be recorded, the last scene of the maiden to be pinned like this. Like this!?

She flailed back against him, the wolf not expecting fight still. The sharp scrape of metal along teeth was heard. She will not be remembered like this. No, no, no! She raised the free blade up again, the moonlight reflecting purple along its surface. The maiden was angry, angry at dying this way. Angry at the world for failing to stay together; she couldn't save them all if they didn't save themselves! Her kingdom is crumbling and the only prince left was the wolf standing, leering at her. She ran at him with it, his paws catching her hands with ease. She was pinned back, her back now flush against the wall.

The knife; it was all she had…all she had! Her mind was trying to calm itself the distracting feelings all at once overwhelming. As she futilely struggled, the wolf had barely moved. The turn of the knife in her hand was felt, and then loosened from her tired hand. So, so tired, the maiden lamented. And then it left his hand, flung away and with stunning accuracy cutting the cord that powered the camera that sat with such passive silence.

Cameras don't need to know about the events of a world gone mad.

And with that, the wolf went to have his maid, the hunger on his features ever present. Would he go for the throat? Would he rend her with his own paws? Or would he, would he impale her again? The last though made her darkly smile, again the notion perverse, absurd, no-

He turned her around, and pressed up against her. The wolf sniffed her sweat drenched hair, rubbing his face among her auburn strands. This wasn't the way the story was supposed to go? The wolf eats the maid, only princes want more than a meal…The maid began to struggle now, the jest she had merely moments ago now becoming startlingly real. She didn't care he was stronger; she would not give so easily, not like this…I can't.

The world's ending, I should face it in sorrow not…

The wolf merely pulled himself flush against her, unmoving. A hand had trailed along the back of her thigh. It trailed along it, stopping at the curve of her hip. This only made the struggle more pronounced, the maid screaming curses at the wolf, a wolf playing at prince. The maiden suddenly felt fingers cup her throat, her head being forced to tilt up.

The maid could only look up her wolf in prince's clothing, a prince that wrought nothing but sorrow. A prince that only played at knight, at suitor…was that his game? To destroy all opposition? A finger crossed her lips, causing the maid to tremble. The dread that filled her, the pressing from behind her -! She tried to lurch the hand along her thigh rising to encircle her. She writhed, trying if anything to get out of his steel grip. A soft purr only greeted her ears. He save for the motion of his arms sat unmoving with her in his grasp.

The maiden suddenly ceased her movement, the realization of the reason for his stillness pushing against her from behind. Rage, and disgust read in her blue tired eyes. Rage and disgust, and … and…She looked up again, his lone eye reading the same and something unknown. No love would pass between them this she knew. But the questionable gaze was there.

The world is ending. Will anyone care?

He let the arm surrounding her loosen, her wolf turned suitor bringing his left hand under her skirt, cupping her thigh. Her face streaked with dirt, grim, and death, along with the etching of horror a person should never endure felt warmth in the form of a hungry tongue drag along her skin. Disgust, yes disgust…the maid hated that the wolf would want this. Ask for this. Have a need for this. Things that only princes and princesses do; things that only desperate people…do…people facing an end.

Was it need? Was it hate? Maybe it was a dying wish?

The maid understood it now. Wolves die just like the maids they chase. Wolves tire like the maids they chase. Wolves desire just like the maids they chase. And besides,

the world is ending today.

But what surprised the maid was with understanding, came acceptance. Not love, not true desire, acceptance of the only thing that one could do to rebel against the world. Rebel and use one's only constant, the body its own world to be destroyed. And despite the disgust, in fact because of it…she yielded. Her restraint fell, her resolve crumbling, her wolf taking on his role as prince.

He can't talk and She won't tell

Instinct versus knowledge warred, the maid allowing him reign along the lines of her kingdom. The shifting of a skirt, her veil, exposing her to him. A finger caressed along the thin fabric that hid her most sacred of places from his hungry glare. That being removed so that the maid was laid bare. Instinct versus knowledge warred him needing, wanting access, her needing it done with more restraint.

Or maybe things were done for a simple 'Just because'?

As her prince went inside his way, she bit her lip, a tear freely trailing down her face … but she is no maid. The pain will pass. Copper barely registered inside her mouth, the sounds of panting and grunting filling the air. He took her as a beast is wont, her stance that of a bitch then a maid. His large hands held her at the sides, rutting deep, the maid unable to stifle her cries. But she took him in, in this union of sin, for the world was beginning to end.

The maid no, the woman panted along with him, the need to hold back, or bother with morals no longer needed or wanted. Disgust was only a hair from lust, and if she just focused on the journey and not the end, if she focused on the feel and not the who…she could live with herself in the morning. For wolves only tread in the dark. The morning will come with sun rise bringing along with blinding white annihilation. They both lost in just doing and not thinking reached what they were looking for.

And as they stood drowning in their mutual fall, the world ended underneath them all.