Hi everyone! It's been a long time since I've posted here.:o I still haven't written the story I've been promising. I'm sorry! I just realized that that story would take some time to write (I usually write the long serious stories multiple chapters at a time, or even the whole story in one go, and I'd need a lot of time to do it, and, well, I can't afford that much time right now).
Anyway, this will be a series of one-shots that show the different ways Chris Redfield could have reacted back in the Monarch Room in RE5. Some are crackfic, others serious. Length may also differ, depending on the theme. I have a few one-shots in mind, but I can also accept suggestions.:P I might add other scenes from RE5 (or other RE titles) depending on inspiration, or how much sugar I consume.:p
Oh, and I don't have anything against Chris Redfield. He's actually one of my favorite RE characters, but these stories were begging to be written, so there you go.:P
Without further ado, here's the first one!
Chris Redfield is a Jerk
Jill Valentine opened here eyes, staring at her partner's eyes. Eyes she had dreamed of for so long, but despaired of ever seeing again. "Chris…" she whispered brokenly. "I'm so sorry." She sank back in his arms, allowing herself the chance to depend on his strength. Why did I ever think he was a jerk again? She thought sleepily.
"You better be!"
Wha…? Jill's eyes, which had begun to close in pain, popped open. She stared incredulously at Chris. "I said I am!"
"You should! I come all this way, escaping from these guys with guns, a toothless giant with bad breath, and some tribal dudes who wanted to barbecue me! And all you could say is 'I'm sorry?' Dammit, I broke my favorite shotgun! And I think I broke one of my toes in the caves. Plus, the guy who sat beside me on the plane snored!"
"What do you expect me to do?" Jill asked incredulously, sitting upright and staring wide-eyed at her erstwhile partner, her delight in seeing him rapidly evaporating by the second. Crap, now I remember why I never went out with him all these years.
"I expect you to give me massages for one whole year," Chris said firmly, wagging a finger to emphasize his point. "Oh, and I think you should reimburse my shotgun. You probably have a lot of money in the bank right now, what with you dying and all."
"I'm not dead," Jill said woodenly. She saw the discarded P30 device, and her eyes brightened crazily.
Chris snorted. "That's what you think. The rest of the world begs otherwise. Oh, and you should pay me back for the flowers I bought for your funeral. Those were damn expensive!"
Jill stood up and picked up the discarded P30 device, trying to ram it back on her chest.
"Oh, and your car? I sold it. Thanks for giving that to me on your will. I didn't really know you cared. Oh well, you wouldn't have wanted it anyway. I accidentally put cigarette burns on the upholstery and I got into a fender bender. At least they still accepted it in 'Cash for Clunkers'!"
Jill moaned at the thought of her beloved Porsche mutilated by the hulking man in front of her, who was still prattling on. She started hobbling, as far away from the guy as possible. "Wesker," she croaked. "Wesker, take me back. I'll be a zombie or a mindless slave again, just keep me away from this guy."
"Oh, and I'm charging you for this rescue mission! All this hard work didn't come for free, you know! Hey, where are you going? I still haven't told you about the zebra print repaint job I did on your apartment…! You owe me for that! Jill? Jill!"