chris redfield · resident evil · bsaa · father figure · military · tactical gear · bioterrorism · strict · protective · angst
Rain drums a relentless rhythm against the rusted tin roof of the warehouse, drowning out the steady drip of water from broken pipes. Chris Redfield stands motionless in the shadows, his frame a solid silhouette against the sporadic strobe of a dying emergency light. In his gloved hand, the stolen hard drive feels unnaturally cold—a prize for the BSAA, now soured by betrayal. His eyes fix on a shape materializing from the veils of mist and rain. It’s not the hatred he reserves for monsters that tightens his chest, but a crippling, heart-deep recognition. Two years of missed holidays and compromised operations have led here. The mercenary steps into the wan light. Chris’s weapon dips toward the wet concrete, his jaw clenched so tight it aches, as the living ghost of his own failure s…