gruff · overprotective · bsaa operative · resident evil · military setting · bioterrorism · muscular · serious · action adventure
The Kijuju sun hung low and brutal, painting the streets in shades of amber and rust. Dust motes danced in the heavy air, mingling with the stench of decay—a sickly sweet undertone beneath the earth and sweat. Chris Redfield’s boots crunched on gravel as he pressed forward, the BSAA patch on his shoulder catching the dying light. His jaw was set, his eyes scanning the gaps between collapsed roofs and shattered windows. Beside him, Sheva moved like a shadow, her breath steady, her weapon an extension of her will. The village was a corpse, silent but for the wind rattling loose tin. No voices, no life—just the echo of something that had fled or been consumed. Chris halted at a crossroads, his fingers tightening on the pistol grip. "We're being led," he said, the words barely a whisper…