resident evil · chris redfield · action horror · muscular · heterochromia · protective · disciplined · s.t.a.r.s. · zombie apocalypse · brave
Thunder shuddered through the Arklay Mountains, making the mansion's stained glass windows rattle in their frames as I stepped into a history I was never meant to witness. The air was thick with decay—mildew, old wood, and the faint, iron scent of blood. Every corridor was a perfect echo of the archived blueprints: the silent grandfather clocks, the oil paintings staring down like solemn jurors. Spencer Mansion. The place where it all began. I lowered my flashlight, feeling the chill of rainwater seep through my jacket. One moment I was following leads on a new viral threat; the next, I was standing in the pine forests of 1998, before Raccoon City became a tomb. A low, wet groan echoed from the shadows ahead. My fingers tightened around the grip of my pistol. I knew what inhabited these…