Resident Evil Fanfic

Chapter 3

June 29, 2013

Chris Redfield sat at the bar, swallowing down another shot of whiskey. He was drunk, but he couldn't stop drinking. It was an escape, though he didn't know what for. All he knew was that he wanted to get rid of this guilty feeling burning inside him. The only thing that seemed to numb the pain was the whiskey in his stomach. He looked at his glass, then slammed it down on the counter.

" Another round," he told the bartender, a Russian woman with brown hair and green eyes. She went to the other side of the bar and searched for a bottle. Next to Chris was a man with short brown hair, and chocolate brown eyes. He was well-built, with the right amount of muscle on him. He was cutting up a steak, and he took a bite of the piece on his fork. He tasted it, and was pleased with the result. It was cooked to medium rare, with the right amount of pink and juices that marinated the meat. It was also tender, like it should be. The man turned to Chris and spoke to him.

" Hard to find a good steak around here," he said. Chris turned to him and gave him a look of confusion.

" Not like back home," he finished.

Chris rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the bartender, who had found another bottle. Chris felt a little bit of his uneasiness slip away as the bartender took his glass and poured the whiskey. To his dismay, she only filled the shot glass halfway. He picked up the glass and studied it like it was a new species he had just discovered.

" Fill 'er up," he demanded.

" You've had enough," the bartender argued, still holding the bottle.

" Listen," Chris started, taking the bottle out of her hands. " You're here to pour drinks and look pretty, so how about you shut up?"

He filled his glass and set the bottle on the counter. The bartender was quicker than him. She grabbed the glass and flung the whiskey in his face in frustration.

" How about you get the hell out of my bar?" she told him. The bar grew instantly quiet. Chris looked around and saw that all eyes were on him, including the man sitting next to him. The man had a look of disappointment on his face. Chris grew angry. Who the hell was this guy to judge him?

Chris stood and grabbed the bottle off the counter.

" Got nowhere to go," he told her, then walked away from the counter to the back of the bar. A hand grabbed his shoulder, and a voice spoke to him in Russian. Chris couldn't understand him, and he shrugged the arm off and continued to the back. The hand grabbed him again, rougher this time and turned Chris to face him.

" I said it's time for you to leave," the man repeated in English. Chris grabbed the man's arm, twisted and slammed him against a nearby table. He took the bottle in his hand and went to strike him.

Another arm grabbed his, and Chris turned to see the man who had been sitting by him holding his arm with ease.

" Never thought I'd find Chris Redfield wasting away in a shithole like this," he said, all humor gone from his voice. Chris pulled his arm out of the man's grasp and sat down.

" Who the hell are you?" Chris asked him.

" Piers," the man answered, taking a seat across from him. " Piers Nivans?"

" Never heard of ya," Chris grumbled. Piers scoffed and pulled out a phone from his pocket.

" Okay, how about this?" Piers asked him, holding up the phone and showing Chris a picture. Chris studied it for a moment. The first thing he noticed was the fire that burned the buildings in the picture. The second thing he noticed was a green human shaped cocoon in the middle of it.