Resident Evil Series Fan Fiction ❯ Resident Evil Blood ❯ Chapter 8 Martyrdom ( Chapter 8 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Disclaimer: I don’t own nothing’, except a Magic the Gathering zombie deck - like you didn’t see that coming... Resident Evil and it’s many AWESOME characters are all property of Capcom and I am simply borrowing their likeness to horribly slander the good name of Redfield in total yummy yaoi goodness!

Resident Evil Blood

Chapter 8 – Martyrdom


Present Day

Claire was right. The egg muffins were pretty good. Quite in fact, the best he’d ever had. Too bad the trivialities of egg muffin sampling were the least of his concerns at the current moment.

Chris Redfield sat at a cafeteria table. Next to him sat Jill Valentine. Directly across from him sat his sister Claire and next to her sat Colonel Bruce McGivern. Also at the table, and around the table, and on the table, and next to the table, and on the floor near the table, and in the general vicinity of and around the entirety of the table, sat pretty much what appeared to be every able bodied man, woman and child (if there were children, they were there too) that resided on the entirety of the base. In other words, it was crowded. Actually, a smidget beyond crowded; it was infested – and Chris Redfield was the man of the hour. Although, in all honesty, he couldn't help but feel more like the main attraction at a cheap circus.

Everyone was asking him questions and commenting and generally being nosy. Chris did his best to just stay quite and smile politely every now and then, but after a year of being away, it was safe to say that he had developed a slight case of antisocial paranoia. It was just too many people; too many voices - too many questions. He'd never been one for being placed center stage in a crowded mob. Not that he didn't know how to deal with it, this though, just really took the cake.

After the rather awkward “boyfriend” incident earlier that morning involving Claire, McGivern and Chris’ over protective raging brother hormones, the rest of the walk to the cafeteria had been relatively silent. All of that immediately broke into total pandemonium the moment they stepped foot into the cafeteria.

It would seem, from what little Chris could gather and make out from the chaotic yammering, that, for all intents and purposes, he was supposed to be dead; at least, that was his current status in the government records: ‘a tragic and lamentable loss to terrorism'. Unfortunately, as Chris saw it, although as flattering as it was, during his absence, his image had been blown way out of proportion. He had been made out to be a chivalrous martyr; a convenient cry akin to ‘the Alamo’ that the government, he was learning, had been more than willing and eager to use in their fight against bioterrorism. Chris wasn’t too sure on how to feel about that. It strangely felt like he was being used, agreeably for a good cause, perhaps, but still. It was weird. Especially considering he was now viewed upon as some type of legendary hero, the likes of which had reached epic status.

Everyone crowded around the amazing Chris Redfield that had, not only just recently saved the BSAA A-1 team the previous day, miffed the colonel earlier that morning, but had also, apparently, died the previous year in Paris, and had now come back from the dead without a single scratch to boot.

According to some of the more descriptive tales, “A building blew up on yo’ ass,” finished off an enthusiastic soldier that Chris had never seen before.

“Well…” he began, not sure of what to say. Seriously, the attention was starting to get a little stifling. “It really wasn’t…” he hesitated. It’s not like Chris hadn’t not expected to be questioned - he had, but certainly not like this. He had fully expected to be put into a dark room with a lone light bulb flickering intimidatingly overhead while professional investigators sniped him with a full onslaught of carefully conceived questions. He had even envisioned isolation and a full battery of experiments and tests, hell, even torture and beatings for information - but this?! He had no idea how to react.

"You want more muffins?!" asked another random face from the crowd. "They're really good!"

Chris just shook his head and politely declined. "No, thank you."

“Yeah, how’d you get out of that?!” another overly enthusiastic soldier chimed in, followed by a flurry of voices echoing the same questions as before.

Chris was having an increasingly difficult time coming up with ways on how to continue to avoid them. "I'm," he shrugged, looking sheepish. "Just that good?"

A carefree slew of laughter dispersed through the cafeteria. “Fucking A, yo. Mother dog here’s got the balls! That’s how!”

If Chris hadn't been so incredibly tense and in a near panic as how he was, then he might actually have found a way to indulge in the overall glorification, but as it was, he couldn't allow himself to relax. One slip up and it could all come crumbling down. One mistake and that would be it. He looked at Claire. She was busy laughing and it near broke his heart that he... Chris looked away. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. Then he repeated his mantra.

I have to… To be careful...

“Yes, Chris," Of them all; the people sitting around them, the voices chatting, the words flying around them - his voice; McGivern’s voice, rang through the clearest. It cut like a sharp knife through the mindless white noise and directly into Chris; his words purposely giving away their obvious allusion. "You are good."

Slight shivers wormed their way down Chris' spine. He knew that voice; that manner of speaking... It was all too familiar...

This man...

...Too unnecessarily familiar.

I have to be careful...



Unknown Location… Five years after Raccoon City.


I was in a daze. I remember the smell of gasoline. I think I even remember what, I'm now pretty sure, was a gas station. Or at least it's roof. Or maybe it was some other roof. It was white. Or was it grey? With red on it. Designs. Red designs. Like a stop sign...? I think it was made of metal. Lots of connecting beams. I think. I don't exactly remember it clearly... But mostly, above all else, I remember the gasoline smell. Oh... And him.

Not that any of those memories matter. It was like a dream. My head felt light. Which was better than it hurting I guess. And my body felt heavy. When I did open my eyes, all I could see was a vast expanse of blue. A beautiful baby blue. With small fluffy patches of white. And they're moving. Am I moving? It's like I'm flying..? No, the floor. That's moving. It's jumping up and down and rocking me to sleep. It was too easy to sleep. Gods... I'm so tired...

"Hm?"

Is that a voice? Am I dreaming..?

"Well, hello."

It is a voice. Is someone there?

"Heh, heh. Sedative wearing off?"

What? Who? Who's there..? Where am I? What's going on..?

"Don't worry Chris."

That voice! I know that voice! Agh! A dull sting! Where? My arm? What was that...? No... My eyes... They're getting.... Heavier. My body....

"We're almost there."

That voice..... I know that voice........



Present Day

Chris had tried a million and one ways to get away from the pestering crowd. They meant well, he knew, but it didn't change the fact that he was five seconds away from his head exploding with their constant bantering. Even his sister was getting to him with her questioning. And they were becoming rather insistent in their demands for an explanation. It wasn't that Chris hadn't already given them one. He wasn't an idiot. He'd concocted a rather ingenious excuse for his absence. It wasn't that. It was more the tiny details that they wanted. Like, 'what did he eat?' and 'what did he do all day?' And stupid questions. "Seriously?! Do I have a girlfriend?" Chris grumbled to himself in a low voice, ticked off while in the men's restroom, the only place where he was at least able to find a moderate amount of privacy.

"Hey, you in there?! Is he in there?"

Chris cussed under his breath.

"Is he?" the voice continued, obviously directing towards some other person in the room. "Hey Chris, you in there?"

The ex-STARS member debated simply staying quiet, but figured others in the room already knew he was in there. He had excused himself from the cafeteria under the guise of needing to go to the restroom, but much to his cringe, he had been escorted by an entourage of curious fellow soldiers. "Yeah," he reluctantly replied. "I'll be out in a minute."

Damn. This human stench is suffocating.

Chris froze.

Damn! I didn't mean- I mean, I didn't mean to say it like that. Fuck.

He cursed under his breath.

He really is rubbing off on me...

Chris took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then opened the stall door. At least twelve other guys were hanging out and seemingly waiting for Chris to join them. "Jeez, you guys can't give me a single moment alone, huh?" he joked as he made his way to wash his hands.

"Ah, come on man," another one of them said. "It's not like that."

"Yeah," continued another. "Besides, it's not everyday we get a celebrity like you that just shows up out of the blue."

Chris turned the water off and simply dried his hands on his pants as he made his way to leave. Most of the guys trailed after behind him. Chris did notice that a few of them were the same guards that had come to his room earlier that morning with Claire and McGivern. Chris then noticed that conveniently, none of these guys were people he recognized from before he went missing a year ago.

Strange. If anyone was going to follow me around, you'd think it was people that knew me back then... Oooh! I see. So that's his plan. He can't keep tabs on me without me noticing if he had kept me isolated, since I would have noticed one person by themselves following me around, but by throwing me at the masses like he did, he can get his flunkies to watch me without me noticing because there would have been too many people around for me to have singled out only one spy. Heh. Gutsy move. This McGivern guy, he's pretty sharp. Probably would have worked too, except-

"Chris!"

"Hm?" the brunette looked up drawn out of his thoughts.

"Chris!" Jill ran up to him in the hallway just a few meters away from the cafeteria entrance. "He's awake!"

"Who, Carlos?! He's awake!?"

"Yeah," she spoke already running down the corridor. "Come on!"

"Right behind you!" Chris shouted as he and a growing number of people starting down the corridor at a fast pace.


Unknown Location… Five years after Raccoon City.


“Hmm…,” Chris moaned as he slowly regained consciousness and quickly regretted it. His head felt like a bag of bricks just played Russian roulette with his brain - and won. His body didn’t lag behind as every nerve either burned or ached or did both. Groaning he slowly stretched his sore muscles and tried to roll over onto his back, at which point it somewhat registered in the back of his mind that he was completely nude, not that he gave it too much priority. Even a simply task, like extending his arm or bending his knee, proved to be painful and frankly, being able to move was far more pressing at the moment than being naked.

“Fuck. What the hell… Happened..?” As he spoke, he quite suddenly remembered where he had been and, more importantly, who had been there with him. Much to his further regret, he wiped his head up and to the sides looking around the room in sudden alarm. A surge of instant dizziness hit him as his vision blurred from the intense pain that struck his head at the sudden motion. “Argh,” he cussed again closing his eyes until it passed.

OK, note to self: no quick motions. Shit, my head is killing me! Damn it, I hurt all over! The hell am I? The fuck is going on? Where is Wesker?!?

Chris opened his eyes again and took a look around the room, slowly this time. The room was big and spacious for one thing. And dark.

Why’s it always gotta be fucking dark?!?

Despite his best efforts, his eye sight couldn’t see the walls or the ceiling of the room, which lead him to infer that the place was probably huge. He did make out large drum barrels piled one on top of the other and other such massive storage containers, like the type that are usually on trains and in shipping yards.

So I’m probably in some sort of warehouse or something…

Chris cursed again and began to move his legs with the intent of sitting up when he heard that distinctive voice that made his blood run cold.

“Well, well. Looks like you’re finally up. About time. I was growing impatient.”

The BSAA member quickly turned to his right and sat up as if by natural reaction forgoing the massive pain that hit him in consequence. “Wesker!”

The blond man grinned. He could tell Chris was having trouble with his body. “How are you feeling Chris? Not too sluggish I hope?”

Immediately, Chris put one and two together. “What did you do to me?!”

“You mean besides beat the shit out of you?” Wesker laughed. “Oh, nothing much. You’re just feeling the effects of a mild sedative wearing off.”

Chris had finally maneuvered himself into a proper sitting position, but his legs seemed incapable of bearing any weight as he tried to stand. A good portion of his body either felt dead and lifeless, or unimaginably sore and painful. He swallowed hard as he admitted to himself that he was not in a good situation. But that seemed to always be the case whenever Wesker was involved.

OK, I’ve gotten out of worse… At least my wrist isn’t broken anymore.

He looked up again to set his eyes on Wesker, as he tried his best to ignore the dull stabbing pain in the back of his mind or the intense cold of the warehouse on his bare skin. “What do you want from me?”

“What do you think, Chris?” Wesker licked his lips and smirked. He could easily tell Chris was on edge and in a terrible spot, but the look on his face let him know that he hadn’t lost hope.

Heh. Oh, Chris. How I’m going to enjoy tearing every last ounce of hope from your cold, shivering body.

“I know I didn’t smack your head around enough to cause brain damage,” he chuckled and pushed off against the large storage containment unit he had been leaning against. “It’s what I’ve always wanted from you,” he answered. Most of the blond’s body remained in the shadows, but Chris could still slightly make him out regardless.

“Yeah? And what’s that?” the brunette asked more to keep the tyrant talking than because he actually wanted to know. He figured the longer he could stall, the better his chances where at recovering from his current state. Already he could feel his legs regaining their mobility.

Just keep talking and- Fuck! Where’d he go!?!

Chris strained his eyes and shifted his head left and right. One second he’s staring at Wesker, the next second he’s gone!

Shit! Sit, shit, shit! Where-!!

“Looking for me?”

“Wha-ughf!!!” Without warning he went sprawling to his side, rolling several yards and almost blacking out as he hit the side of a metal barrel.

“Come now Chris,” Wesker practically laughed as he calmly walked over towards the brunette. “At least try to make an effort to dodge the hits.”

Chris grunted as he coughed and took in deep breaths desperately trying to keep from loosing consciousness. His head was beyond pounding - it was like a freaking tribal drum dance in there! “Sorry, my bad,” he sarcastically replied. “You know, sedatives and all.”

“Hmph.” Wesker stood a few steps away. “Excuses, excuses.” He closed in the space between them in a flash as his boot connected with Chris’ ribs, effectively slamming the other man into the drum barrel again, only this time denting the metal and causing them to topple over on top of the brunette.

Chris was only able to brace himself as the wind was literally kicked out of his lungs as he was sent flying. The moment his body hit the metal and fell to the floor, he knew at least one, if not more, of his ribs were shattered. But that wasn’t the worse of it. As he bit his tongue to keep from crying out, he heard the collapse of the drum barrel tower and as a split second reaction managed to roll away. He couldn’t help but scream from the pain not just in his side, but from the burning in all his body as large metallic barrels fell on him regardless. Miraculously, he managed to avoid being hit by the brunt of them, although, a few still hit and battered him pretty badly. Ironically, they hurt less than most of Wesker’s hits. Chris secretly thanked the heavens that they were empty or else he’d have been crushed to death for sure. Still, he was having trouble breathing and he could no longer even muster the energy to move his own body so he simply lay prostrate on the cold cement floor partially pinned under a drum barrel.

Not a minute had passed when he felt the barrel lifted off of himself. There stood Wesker, dressed in his usual black motif, holding the large metallic barrel in one hand as though it were no heavier than a feather pillow. “Careful Chris,” the blond joked. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Go to hell,” Chris barely managed to say as he sucked in air. He could taste the slight metallic copper in the back of his throat and suddenly realized that he was probably in worse shape than he felt. And he felt pretty bad, so he could only imagine how bad off he actually was.

“Tsk, tsk. Such manners,” Wesker carelessly flung the barrel in his hand to the side and Chris couldn’t help but wince at the loud clatter it caused as it hit another tower of barrels and made them topple over too. “I suppose I should teach you to respect your superiors.”

“Heh,” Chris suddenly laughed, as something inside of him finally snapped. Or at least as close to laugh as a person coughing up blood with a broken rib can be. “Superior? You’re not superior,” he spat. ”You’re a freak; a monster; a fucking science experiment gone wrong. You can call yourself whatever you want, but you know you’d be nothing without that virus. I killed you! I won. I’ve shit on every plan you’ve ever had and made yo-argh!” Chris recoiled from the slap to the face. Wesker had practically teleported over him straddling the other man’s waist as he back handed Chris again for good measure. Chris saw stars for several seconds before he spit out blood and turned back to stare at the tyrant. He saw Wesker’s face drawn tight as his sunglasses hid any expression he might have shown, but Chris knew he’d hit a nerve. “Heh, so say whatever bullshit you want.” Chris paused and grinned. “You can go fuck yourself.”

Wesker stood still for a long moment, as if contemplating those words; as if deep in thought. During which time he didn’t move; he didn’t say anything; his face didn’t react or show emotion. Chris began to grow nervous, but held his own defiant face even as the pain in his body began swelling and threatening to brake his consciousness. Finally, as if coming to a decisive conclusion, Wesker slightly smirked and let his hand nonchalantly remove his dark shades and toss them idly to the side, revealing those dangerous red serpentine eyes in flaming yellow. “No,” he casually spoke. “I’d much rather fuck you.”



***************************** Author Time! *****************************
Yoh!

Da-da-dum! Oh, no’s! What’s gonna happen to Chris now! Tune in next week for - SEX! Yes, finally, in chapter 9! Yaoi awesomeness! I apologize for taking so long in updating this chapter, but I went to Apollocon, a SciFi/Literture con, last weekend and spent both Fri and Sat staying up till 4 am playing MtG in the con suite (and yes I only play zombie decks, hahaha) and then spent all of Sunday at Planet Zero (a Japanese arcade) playing King of Fighters XII! Man, I was so beat, I passed out all of Monday and etc. Whoo, and I have another con this weekend too! And Otakon and Supercon later this month, followed by San Japan con the very next weekend after that- jeez! I’ma be a zombie myself when this is done! Long story short, if I don’t update with another chapter until Aug, you’ll know why, but I’ll try to get another chapter in sometime in between.

Speaking of which, if you happen to go to Anime Overload, Otakon, Supercon or San Japan anime conventions in the next few weeks, look for me! I’ll be doing cosplay panels and/or running the game room! I’m even doing a Fan Fiction panel at San Japan, so if you happen to go, stop and say Yoh! I’d love to hear from you!

R/R please! Let me know what you think so far! Reviewing makes me want to update more often, so the more reviews, the quicker the next update!

And on to the best part about fan fiction - the reviews!

Mistress Mary D. Really?! I inspired you to write a fan fic?! Super awesome! If you upload your yaoi-shot, let me know and I’ll definitely go R/R! That’s like the coolest thing anyone has said to me yet! Thank you! You are too cool! And yeah, originally I thought writing about Chris being tortured and raped would be easy because I hated his guts, but then, the more I thought about him and the more I re-played him the games (and made STARS cosplay outfits) all of a sudden I realized I actually liked him! I was suddenly worried, “Oh no’s! Can I still write this fanfic?!” But you know what? It’s easy! Because there is an easily crossed fine line between love and hate. In fact, that’s the whole premise of RE: Blood (although it’s going to be at awhile before it gets to that). So… I can’t remember the point I was trying to make, but yeah! Awesome! Hopefully the next chapter doesn’t hurt you too much ‘cause it’s going to get VERY graphic. Yeah.

ReidMorgan Oh, man, if you felt sorry for Chris last chapter, get ready for chapter 9, ‘cause it’s… Yeeeah. It’s something else. Even I’m like, “Ooh, ouch, whoa. Just. Oh, man. Whoa.” But, well… Chris must suffer for my art. *cough* Thanks! Yeah, the building HAD to blow up! I mean, at the end of every RE game, the bad guy’s building blows up! It’s cannon! Hahaha! Also, Wesker WAS going to blow it up while the rest of A-1 was in there still, but at the last second I decided it would be better if the team was instead, forever scarred and burned and half way alive so I could later hunt them down and kill them (perhaps in front of Chris even) just to be that much more evil. Heh. Gods, I’m so-I mean, he’s so epic awesome. *smirks* Heh heh.

Murder Junkie Well, here’s my first attempt at integrating swearing. I think it went well. Especially the last line, heh, heh. Yes, that would be great if you could let me know what needs working on. I know I need to work on my grammar a bit (and thank the gods for spell check because when I turn it on, half the page has squiggly red lines and the rest has squiggly green lines. *sweat drops*), but I’ll try harder, heh. As for everything else, thanks for reading and reviewing! It’s always amazing to hear what others have to say, so thank you so much! I hope you like this chapter and trust me… I’m going to get one hell of a cussing storm in the next one, heh heheheh… *more nervous laughter*

ShivaTheDestroyer Thank you! I hope you enjoy the rest of the story too! It’s always great to get reviews so please let me know what you think of the rest of the story! Thanks so much! PS: I really like your handle name. Awesome!

EsskayHahahaha! *throws $19.99 at esskay for the goggles* Are they water proof I wonder..? ‘Cause I have a cesspool, I mean, “pool,” out back where I grow all my venom and lies in. And crawfish (but that’s coincidental). Heh, awesome! Oh, yeah, rule three is the best. And he’s gonna follow through with it too. Yup. Chris is gonna die, but… *evil glance to the left; evil glance to the right* Psst! It’s no secret, but… We both know no one in RE ever actually stays dead, heh, heh. Oh, yes, I’m gonna take this plot device and drive the hell out of it! Hope you like this chapter, ’cause the next one is CRAZY yaoi. You have been warned! Sweeet!