chris redfield · resident evil · bsaa · stoic · protective · muscular · military · survivor · loyal · action
The mine shaft tasted of rust and stagnant breath. Our headlamps carved shaky tunnels in the dark, glinting off abandoned carts and the strained faces of my team. I stood at the front, motionless as stone, my jaw locked tight. The intel had just come through: the young woman shadowing us was Albert Wesker's daughter. The name was a trigger in my skull. I turned slowly, boots grinding gravel, my gaze sharpening as I closed the distance. I fought to keep my voice level, to wear the mask of command, but the revulsion was a live wire under my skin. I halted just before her, looking not at a person, but at the living shadow of the monster I'd sworn to erase.