For The Future

➜ GENERAL INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Christopher Matthew Redfield

NICKNAME(S): Captain, Mr. Sexfield, CHRRRIIIISSSSSS

AGE: 41

DATE OF BIRTH: May 18, 1973

OCCUPATION: Special Operations Unit Captain of the Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance

RELIGION: Agnostic 

SEXUALITY: Heterosexual

➜ APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: --

HEIGHT: 6'1"

WEIGHT: 216 lbs 

HAIR COLOR: Brown

EYE COLOR: Blue

DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: Chris has numerous scars from years of combat, most of them faded.

➜ BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: Warren, Michigan

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Virginia

FINANCIAL STATUS: Upper middle class

EDUCATION LEVEL: High school diploma; years of "on the job" training

FATHER: Jack Redfield

MOTHER: Jennifer Redfield, née Becker

SIBLINGS: Claire Redfield, younger sister

Investigation with strange named companies was definitely not good. She arose from her seat, her teeth clenched and her hands were balls of fists. 

Elise’s red eyes glowed a dim light, and she rolled her shoulders to go back to her cool yet menacing look. The last thing she wanted was a human snooping around her web. 

At least he made himself known. The fly is trapped now.

“Relax.” she cooed, swaying her hips as she stepped closer and closer to the man,”This… B.S.A.A. has brought you here for an investigation?” 

A sultry laugh escaped her lips and she blinked slowly, looking up at her bearded prey.

"Your cooperation is appreciated." It wasn't unlike the line he had recited to another stranger in a similar position not so long ago. Chris fought to keep down the bile that threatened to scorch his throat.

Stepping off to the side, the captain nonchalantly motioned ahead with his gun.

Upon recognizing the agent, Chris lowered his weapon and released the breath that had been burning his lungs. Relief was a strong word to call it, especially after China, but the captain soon decided there were worse things out there to run into than a familiar face.

"Civil?" he echoed back, smiling crookedly. "That'll be the day." Their reunion was short-lived; radio static sliced through the silence, garbled words like alpha and captain and rendezvous thrown into the mix. Chris quickly squeezed a hand around the device, and the silence returned.

Adam chuckled, “We’ve been meaning to update the servers, but that’s cyber security’s job.” Hand out, the guard gestured to the stairs with a nod. “Pamphlets, magazines, eBooks, the whole shebang. If you would just follow me—”

It may not look the way he remembered, but Detroit was still Detroit.

The building's fluorescent lights only seemed to get stronger with each step taken, reflecting off Adam's shoulders as if to direct the captain's gaze. Knowing they would soon reach the top, Chris seized the opportunity and studied the man in front of him. Do those arms feel like his arms, he wondered, or more like fastened weights? The captain had done enough research to know that augmentations weren't just plastic and metal shaped like an arm or a leg, but he couldn't imagine the sensation being the same.

Better, maybe, but not the same.

And in that moment, only one word could describe the man he admired filled his head: uncivil.

"Nah, I don’t go back on my word." He shook his head, grinning brightly. Next time I’m bringing pie, wise man. "That’s a creative way to eat your cake."

He took notice of Chris checking the time; it set a bitter sense in him, remembering the captain has other -better- matters to attend to. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, I don’t care much for wishes or birthdays. I find it meaningless to celebrate the process of aging—” Piers caught himself when his tongue almost slipped ‘and coming a step closer to your grave’, inwardly cursing his dimming mood. He didn’t come all the way to mull over the inevitable; that’s what he reminded himself of, and instead offered a shy smile.

"Except when it comes to my birthday?" he pointed out, the corner of his mouth lifting in mild amusement. Chris briefly thought about pursuing the subject, but luckily for Piers, he was far more interested in the answer to his previous question.

"That's not crap," he quickly interjected, "that's being selfless--something the world could use a little more of, if you ask me." The captain smiled again, silently laughing with Piers at his minor aside about the drugs. Chris followed the younger man's example and got to his feet, throwing one last glance at the clock before retrieving his coat.

"Come on, let's get you back before those drugs you're on really take their toll." He gave Piers a good-natured pat on the shoulder and, after rummaging around his pockets to make sure he had his key, held the door open for him.

I thought we’re throwing jokes around and now you’re making me feel terrible omg I’m such a horrible sister. T-T

Yup. We talked about this, remember? You said you might attend it if a friend of yours agrees to come along with you. Anyways Scruffles says hi (he’s licking my phone screen)

To: Chris From: Claire

Don't be so dramatic. Maybe I should have put an emphasis on the baby in baby sister.

To: Claire From: Chris

"Well then, I guess I’ll have to remember that for next time!" Claire stiffed a chuckle with a hand to her mouth. “As long as my big brother comes and bails me out."

The younger Redfield switched her bag to the other shoulder; traveling was painful, but not as painful as Chris’ cooking. “Forgive me for being weary after someone gave me food poisoning," she gave him a sly gaze. “But Asian sounds good. Haven’t had it in a while."

The siblings settled into a comfortable silence as they rode upwards on the escalator. Her eyes scanned all around her, looking for any signs of distress in the airport. It was a bad habit that had been exemplified after the Harvardville Incident. But the anxiety Claire felt gave way to a sense of love and protection she always felt around Chris.

"Claire, we’ve been over this: an upset stomach is not the same thing as food poisoning.” He threw a sidelong glance at the younger Redfield, his expression equally playful. “I seem to recall you liking the food I cooked. Before you took off running for the bathroom, anyway,” Chris added with a sheepish smile. There’s a reason he’s a soldier and not a chef. “Asian it is.”

With his back now towards Claire, the captain didn't immediately pick up on her unease. "Except now you have your own personal bellhop boy, so it doesn't have to hurt." After setting foot off the escalator, Chris turned around and pried the woman's bag off her shoulder and slid it onto his own. "Besides, I could use the extra work out."

Feeling old yet?

To: Chris From: Claire

I'm guessing that's a no. Don't worry, you'll always be my baby sister no matter how old you are.

To: Claire From: Chris

"I am not that buffoon,” Came murmured response, slight raise of brow as the brunet quite literally made himself comfortable. Though he could have gotten used to it by now, the blond was always the picture of perfection both in and outside of his home, and to see his marksman as quite the opposite in terms of the way he presented himself (even in a casual setting) was something to draw an inaudible scoff. As long as Chris didn’t ask him to remove his clothing. But would he decline? Not quite. It meant quiet torture.

The game menu pops up, and he smirks to himself. "I could still fire you, but even I am not that cruel. Just try not to get killed too often, and our team will win. Apply your real life tactics to the game— also, no camping please. I do not tolerate such cowards, and I trust you will not be one of them.” He knows he’s probably irking his companion by now but whatever. 

"I'm not making any promises." They hadn't even gotten past the game's title screen and he was already upset; not only was the generic soldier guy holding his gun incorrectly (which, he guessed, was supposed to be "cool"), but his finger was on the trigger! Chris reminded himself that it's just a game. A game that was sometimes used to recruit people into joining the military.

The marksman sighed through his nose, relief washing over him as Wesker created a match. Chris felt slightly bothered by how efficient his captain was at navigating the game's menus and settings, but he didn't feel like commenting on it. "Let's just get this over with," he murmured, gripping the controller with one hand and rubbing his forehead with the other.

A fine brow arched over her forehead as Chris took a moment to rearrange his thoughts, finishing her drink and waiting for a mind blowing story—everyone has a great story why they’d adopt a dog (or any kind of pets.) Scruffles let out another bark but it tuned into small whines when Claire gave him a stern “no".

Then, her face contorted from shock to pissed-off in less than a second at his words. “Chris!" She hissed, eyes boring deadly into her old brother’s, cupping the sides of Scruffles’ head to cover his ears. “You can’t just say that; he has feeling too!"

Shaking her head, Claire looked down at the dog’s features and noted then the resemblance -beside pointy ears- were down to nothing. “Oh… well, I only know of few kinds: poodles, Chihuahuas," she shrugged, giggling at the face Scruffles pulled when begging for crumbs. “I also know pugs, huskies, Spike from Tom and Jerry, and Cerberuses—but that’s beside the point."

Chris fought the urge to roll his eyes when Claire scolded him, though he knew that she did it just to get on his nerves. "Stop being so dramatic," was all he could say before stuffing another forkful of meat and rice into his mouth. Their exchange seemed to have distracted Scruffles from begging for more food (he was looking up at Claire, probably wondering why she was touching his ears), so at least the room was quieter now.

Hearing "Redfield's charm" come out of his sister's mouth nearly caused Chris to choke on his food. He coughed, which elicited a concerned bark from the puppy, and covered his mouth to keep himself from spitting on Claire. Of course she'd find a way to bring up his love life.

"I told you, I didn't choose to get him!" Chris recovered from his little fit, setting his utensils down and sliding the takeout boxes further away from Scruffles. While he didn't want to play Claire's game, he struggled to change the subject without being too obvious.