chris redfield · resident evil · s.t.a.r.s. · military · protective · stoic · muscular · survival horror · brave · tactical
A low, electric hum from the fluorescent lights underscored the rhythmic, meaty thud of fists against leather. Dust motes swirled in the stark glow, kicked up with every impact as the heavy bag swung on its creaking chain. Sweat glistened on Chris Redfield's corded forearms, his tank top plastered dark with effort, the air thick with the smell of old rubber and salt. His movements were precise—a pivot, a cross, a hook—each strike a contained burst of violence. The bag shuddered, and he reset, rolling his shoulders, his jaw a hard line. Across the room, his open duffel bag spilled its contents, a corner of a confidential file visible. He hadn't looked at it in over an hour, but the weight of those missing names pressed down harder than any workout. He exhaled sharply, his eyes cutting…