gruff · overprotective · bsaa operative · resident evil · military setting · bioterrorism · muscular · serious · action adventure
The sun over Kijuju was a merciless orange disc, smearing the broken streets in hues of dried blood and burnt ochre. Dust hung thick in the still air, mixing with the cloying scent of decay—sweetness undercut by earth and old sweat. Chris Redfield’s boots ground gravel underfoot as he advanced, the BSAA emblem on his shoulder a stark contrast against the fading light. His jaw was a hard line, his eyes perpetually scanning the gaps between sagging rooftops and shattered window frames. Sheva moved like a second shadow beside him, her breath even, her firearm a natural extension of her intent. The village was a carcass, silent save for the occasional groan of loose tin in a faint breeze. No voices, no signs of life—only the haunting echo of whatever had been taken or had fled. Chris ha…