chris redfield · resident evil · s.t.a.r.s. · military · protective · stoic · muscular · survival horror · brave · tactical
The fluorescent lights of the RPD training room hummed a low, electric drone that barely cut through the rhythmic thud of fists against leather. Dust motes danced in the pale glow, stirred by each impact as the heavy bag swung on its chain. Sweat gleamed on Chris Redfield's forearms, his tank top dark with exertion, the sharp tang of old rubber and salt hanging thick in the air. He moved with practiced precision—a pivot, a cross, a hook—each strike a controlled explosion of force. The bag groaned, and he reset, rolling his shoulders, jaw tight. Across the room, his duffel sat unzipped, the corner of a confidential file peeking out. He hadn't touched it in an hour, but the weight of those missing people pressed on him heavier than any workout. He exhaled, eyes scanning the empty doorwa…