#Carlos oliveira my beloved

[sxvethelastdance]

Carlos. Mommy. Milkers.

WHO ARE YOU AND HOW DID YOU GET IN MY HOUSE

I blame @splatterlewis . You draw Carlos tits for chat ONE time—

[delicatebluebirdruins]

two screenshots of today's playthrough

1 Carlos telling Jill "you're going to be okay, I promise"

2 does the flaming knife i have in my hand arsenal and the zombie I set on fire count as smoking?

[softdadleon]

Some soft Valeveira

This went through numerous drafts but I’m really happy with how it turned out!

[draconicocelot]

Broken Past, Treacherous Future

Summary: Carlos is in the process of starting a new life, but a quick stop in his old hometown leads to a rather unfortunate run-in with old enemies. 

Note: I do not speak Portuguese, the only terms used here have been from external sources and may or may not be exactly correct but I did my best to make it accurate

“Sure you don’t want to come in?” 

“Nah, I’d like to enjoy the last of today’s sun. Grab me a lemonade while you’re in there, please?” Penny nodded in response, ducking into the store as the top of the door hit a tiny bell, notifying the owner of her entry. Carlos stayed outside, sitting on the bench near the small shopping mall they stopped at. The sunset was beautiful, granted, it always was to him. He was relieved to return to Brazil after so many years away, however, it also brought back the sour memories associated with his past. When his family was taken away from him, the robberies and the stealing, the violence he so desperately wished to avoid. 

“Ei, você aí,” Carlos turned his attention to the voice coming from his right, noticing that the man who called to him was followed by two others. He felt himself tense up, but remained calm, leaning back slightly with a neutral expression. Something didn’t feel right, but he wouldn’t act just yet. 

“Bem-vindos, can I help you?” The man in front stopped a few feet away from Carlos, his hands hidden from view as they were stuffed in the front pocket of his hoodie. One of the other members had the same build as Carlos, only slightly shorter, showing the scars on his arms and shoulders by wearing a white tank-top. The third member of their group seemed like he was more on edge than the others, his back hunched over as his eyes darted from side to side as if making sure no one else was around. 

“Just taking a stroll,” the leader deviously responded, leaning closer as he added, “what about you, Oliveira?” Carlos felt his chest tighten, eyes widening as he raised a brow. 

“Wh-What…?” Though as he let the voice settle in his head, hearing his last name spoken in a harsh, roughened tone, it suddenly hit him. Memories of tears, the light gleaming off the metal surface of a gun, the night he lost yet another brother. 

Tonio laid motionless on the ground, blood pooling around him as his second oldest brother turned and sprinted after the group of teens who had just shot him. Their mother was on her knees, cradling her son in her arms. Her screams for help haunted Carlos’ dreams for many years, as did the frozen look of terror on his brother's face as he was killed for Pedro’s reckless actions. 

Carlos stood still, yet quivered in place as he faced the wall. Closing his eyes so tight, he hoped he would open them in a more peaceful place, that this moment hadn’t truly happened. They told him not to move, so of course he couldn’t move. He just had to wait and no one else would get hurt. Violence had to be a last resort… they would honor their word not to harm anyone else… right?

“You… you,” Carlos hissed, launching himself to his feet as his knees shook slightly beneath him. It’s like he was five years old again, hands against the wall, a silent yet terrified comply. 

“Ah, so you remember us, hm?” The leader shrugged his shoulders, releasing his hands from his pocket to reveal a set of brass knuckles around one hand, the other wrapped in bandages. The taller man turned his neck to the side, loudly cracking both sides before rolling his shoulders. 

“It’s been sixteen years… sixteen years since you tore my family apart,” Carlos formed a fist so tightly his nails dug into his palm, gritting his teeth as he felt the rage build up and rise to his chest. “What the fuck are you doing here…?”

“I suppose we can ask you the same thing, since last time I checked, this was our territory,” the man out front snapped his fingers, tilting his head in Carlos’ direction as the muscle behind him stepped forward. 

He hated how violent he felt, he despised the urge to swing his fist, to take them all down to the ground like the infected citizens in Raccoon City. He wanted to crush them all beneath his boot, to make them feel the same pain he had when they killed his brother right in front of their family. 

Revenge. It’s what he wanted, what he desired with such ravenous hunger. He could kill them right then and there, and Tonio, his innocent brother… would still be gone. In that moment, the back of Carlos’ mind reminded him, revenge was how this all started. 

The only reason they fought back was because Pedro killed their friend. They allowed the rage to fully engulf them, to let the pain and the suffering dictate their reactions. They acted with violence, showing brutality in its ugliest form, a form that is only expressed when it is paired with the loss of a loved one. 

Taking a deep breath, Carlos spoke once more, his voice a mixture of restrained wrath with the facade of tranquil acceptance.  

“Look… I don’t want to fight,” he put his hands out in front of him as if motioning to calm down, “what happened in the past was… horrific… but I am done fighting. I understand that what my brother did to you and the rest of your group was unforgivable, and that you took the ‘eye for an eye’ approach to that whole fuckin’ mess… but if we keep goin’ at each others throats like this there won’t be any of us left, alright? Please, just… let it go,” he begged, observing their body language to see if they were willing to agree. 

The leader tilted his head slightly, considering it, his finger tapping his chin. The grin that followed shortly after was all Carlos needed to answer his plea for a peaceful resolution. 

“I knew you were the soft one, criança. Teach him a lesson.” As soon as the order was given, his bodyguard immediately lunged forward with a right hook, landing directly into Carlos’ gut. Carlos stumbled backwards, clutching his abdomen with one hand and trying not to be sick as he swallowed thickly. Before he had time to recover, he was being brought to the ground with a kick to the back of his knees, after which the leader stepped forward and struck him in the side of the head with his hand that wasn’t guarded by brass knuckles. 

Carlos’ ears were ringing as he felt the sharp pain radiate from one side of his head to the other. While the bodyguard positioned one boot on top of Carlos’ chest, knocking the wind out of him with a defeated wheeze, he attempted to shove him away with a sturdy thrust from the heel of his hand. While he was almost successful, the leader approached from the side and grabbed the collar of Carlos’ shirt, pulling him up off the ground before dealing three harsh jabs to the face, leaving him with a bloody nose and a busted lip. The ground felt as though it was spinning, his vision blurred so badly he could hardly make out the features of the two men looming over him. His head was pounding and he still felt the nausea wash over him in waves. He supposed this was what he deserved, what he earned for turning his back on his combat training. As a soldier, he should have been ready to defend himself, to defend his family’s honor. He should have fought back, he should have thrown the first punch, but he just couldn't. 

“Hey! What the hell is going on here?!” It wasn’t until he heard the familiar higher pitched voice coming from behind him, where he couldn’t see, that he felt a rush of adrenaline course through his muscles. He writhed under the stronger man’s grip, but he only added more weight to his boot while his other leg kept Carlos from kicking. 

“Ahh,” the leader hummed in a pleased tone, snapping his fingers once more and pointing towards the nearest wall. The bodyguard wrapped his arms under Carlos’, forcing him to stand and face the direction of Penny’s voice. “Who do we have here?” Turning to Carlos, he shoved a thumb behind him, gesturing to her, “got yourself a namorada, eh?” 

Carlos couldn’t make out her expression, only able to see her silhouette in front of them with a ring of light around her coming from the storefront. He couldn’t imagine how frightened she was, knowing she would one day be exposed to the story of his past, but he hoped it wouldn’t happen so harshly. Despite attempting to break free from being held back, the leader gave him another strike to the gut, this time with the added metallic sting. Carlos choked on his own air, keeping himself upright but hunching over to keep from collapsing. 

“Do… Do whatever you want… to me. Leave her… leave her OUT of this,” Carlos managed to string the words together in more of a growl than speech, his partially blood soaked hair dangling over his eyes as he glared at them. 

“Look, I don’t know who you are, or what you want, but you need to let him go, now,” Carlos’ chest felt tight, partially from the attack, but also from the desperation in Penny’s voice. It was well hidden to those who weren’t aware of the way she spoke. However, he could tell her voice was different, he could sense the fear hidden behind the external wall of bravery she put forward. 

“Oh, do I?” he put a hand over his chest in a mocking posture of shock, then slinked closer to her, hands folded behind his back like a snake approaching its prey, “and just what is a little coelha like you going to do about it?” 

Penny didn’t take her eyes off of him, her expression neutral yet stern as she reached in her vest pocket, pulling out a small firearm and firing at his foot without hesitation. 

“Holy shit!” the third member, who remained behind the others without participating in the assault, shouted as he watched their leader fall, his knee up to his chin as he rolled on the ground, clutching his foot as blood pooled around his shoe. “She’s fuckin’ crazy!” 

Just as he called it out, he scrambled away from the scene without another question, all semblance of loyalty thrown to the curb. The muscle of the group, the one keeping Carlos held up, raised his eyebrows, unable to speak. Penny didn’t flinch as she lowered the gun, her eyes slowly shifting to the muscle while his “powerful leader” sobbed on the street. 

“So, would you like a turn?” He didn’t seem to ponder the question any further, seeing the lack of hesitation when shooting the other member of his group. Straightening his arms, he allowed Carlos to slip out of his grasp and collapse to the ground, holding himself up by one shaky arm. He then approached his wounded leader and scooped him up, following the trail of their final member who left just seconds earlier. 

“This, this isn’t over, imbecil!” he sputtered between tears. 

“It better be if you don’t want me to aim higher next time!” Penny snapped back, waiting for them to be completely out of sight before she ran over to Carlos’ side, holstering her concealed carry back in her vest. “Carlos, hey, are you alright?” Penny’s voice was much more tender this time, back to its sweetly pitch that was always so soothing to the ear. 

“I’m fine… I’m okay, Bow…” he tried to reassure her, backing against the wall so he could sit himself up. Penny placed her hand on his chin, gently tilting his head from one side to the other to observe the damage, and despite the fact that he didn’t want to involve her any further, he knew she wouldn’t back down. 

“Alright, tell me if this hurts,” she instructed, placing one hand over the other and pressing against his belly. Carlos sharply inhaled, recoiling at her touch as his hand instinctively covered his abdomen, the other remaining on the ground to hold himself up so he didn’t slide onto his back. 

“Yep… that hurts,” he muttered pathetically, a whimper behind his voice. Penny quickly jumped up to her feet and returned to where she dropped the few bags she had with her from the store, bringing them back to where Carlos was lying. “Machuca pra cacete…”

“I know… just hang in there, I’m gonna get you some help,” he perked up at that, lifting his head slightly to look at her, an amused yet exhausted smile on his face. 

“You understood that?” Penny huffed a bit of a laugh as she unpacked the bag containing Carlos’ lemonade and a few other cold items. One of which was a box of frozen treats, which she opened and took one of the individually wrapped popsicles out. 

“I’ve been learning a thing or two,” she responded, “now this might sting, but it’ll help numb the pain until we can get you to the hospital.” Penny held the packaged popsicle to his right eye, which was swollen and turning an ugly shade of brown and purple. Carlos flinched at first, but settled after he felt the pain slowly melt away. It seemed like an odd fix, but as soon as the throbbing became less noticeable, he thought it was genius. 

“Damn, you’re a fast learner, that’s amazing,” Penny handed him the lemonade after unscrewing the bottle’s cap, then opened one for herself. 

“You’re very sweet,” she responded, taking a sip before looking back at him, a look of sadness in her eyes. “Carlos… what happened back there?” Carlos’ expression of brief joy also fell, tracing the words on the label of the bottle anxiously. The last thing he wanted that day was for her to find out who he used to be, the lows he had to reach to support his family. 

“Let’s just say, the past caught up with me,” he knew it wasn’t going to be enough for her. It wasn’t as though she would force the truth out of him, but he felt she deserved better. They depended on each other, the least he could do was tell her who she was depending on. He paused for a moment, tapping the top of the bottle before setting it down. “I’m… I’m not proud of who I used to be, Bow.” 

Penny was sitting on her knees, her hand removing the cold compress from his eye and placing it back in the box. It wasn’t like they were going to break into them that night, it was meant to fill their hotel room with the other goods going with them on their journey to their new home a few hours away from there. They had been traveling for days, and while Carlos acknowledged the risks of returning to his hometown, he thought it would be for a short enough amount of time that he would be spared the pain of living through it again, now here he was, paying the price. 

So he explained everything, omitting the details of the night his brother was murdered right in front of him, but telling her about his temporary strand of petty crimes that grew to full-on robberies. He was clear to acknowledge that he hadn’t harmed anyone those days, but when his days as a trained guerilla fighter began, he couldn’t hold the same claim. He told her about the day he was caught, that he wasn’t even supposed to live through his final ambush. When the U.B.C.S forces recruited him for his skill, he had to agree, if only because he would have been punished for his previous records should he refuse. 

“Sure, I may look good as a soldier… but as soon as I take off the uniform, I’m just… a useless thief,” Penny used her hands to push herself forward so she was now sitting diagonally from him. She slowly raised her hand, cradling his cheek as he lifted his head once more, looking at her with defeat in his eyes.

“Carlos Oliveira, listen to me. You are not useless, and you are not a thief. You are a kindhearted soul who was dealt a shitty hand in life, but even then, you still managed to avoid as much violence as you could. You never wanted to hurt anyone, but when everyone hurts you first, it’s hard not to fight back,” Carlos stared into her russet brown eyes, completely enthralled by her words, unable to respond other than to bring his arms up to rest over her shoulders, bringing her closer to him. “You know who I saw when we first met? Someone who was dedicated to the care and protection of others. I didn’t see a criminal, I didn’t see someone who should be feared, I didn’t see the person you see when you look in the mirror. I see someone who has fought through hell to get his life back, and I think you should be proud of yourself for that,” Penny leaned in closer, guided by Carlos as he pulled them close enough for their foreheads to touch, holding each other there as Penny slinked her arms around Carlos’ torso, embracing him gently to prevent the pain from flaring up again.

“No one has ever stood up for me like you have…” he softly admitted. Penny’s smile was small, but genuine. 

“Well, no one ever saw me as someone worth saving before you. So… I suppose we were meant for each other, hm?” Carlos squeezed her tighter after that statement, moving his head to rest on her shoulder, his cheek nuzzled against hers. 

“Yeah, I suppose we are.” 

[hyponell3]

SKETCHDUMP TIME AGAIN

This time we have featured:

OG Carlos being all worried for Jill because he would and should. Let him call her cute little names too plea- also my bad my Spanish is no bueno lmao

Brad and Rebecca seem like the most huggable STARS members. Now, let thr two most huggable people hug each other. Brad needs a hug

Brad and Carlos is my wanted friendship but also my lovely crackship that will end up being something I actually ship JUST WATCH IT ALWAYS STARTS AS A JOKE- "Poster Boy" is now a petname.

ALSO A CONCEPT FOR ANIMAL CROSSING OG CARLOS!!!!

enjoy

[goblinfreaks]

❤️🦝

[jojooasis]

Finished wash day~ The curls are poppiNG. Now I'm in my Carlos Oliveira Era

[ms-rampage]

Carlos Oliveira my freaking beloved! 💕💕💕

[wizardmancharles]

Intro post again woah mama !!!

My name is Charlie, but I also go by Frankie

My current hyperfixation is Resident Evil and my favorite characters are: Karl Heisenberg, Albert Wesker, Carlos Oliveira, Jill Valentine, Luis Serra but I'll probably have more soon

I love listening to music!! Most of what I listen to is soundtracks from resident evil, kmfdm, Metallica (ajfa my beloved) or Alice in Chains! My all time favorite song is To Live Is to Die

Dni:

Tcc fans and msi fans

Morston shippers, I'm not in the rdr fandom anymore but that ship is icky

[access--granted]

Very random, but who are your top 3 RE faves and why? Also, do you prefer their OG or remake portrayals?

Ooh, this is a good question!

Honestly, I think my top three would have to be the following:

Leon Kennedy

Jill Valentine

Carlos Oliveira

It's really tough for me to choose only three, but those were the three names at the front of my mind when I really thought about it. I love all the characters for many different reasons, though.

As for preferred portrayals, I love Leon's Remake portrayals a lot. I feel like Capcom didn't quite know what they wanted to do with him yet in his OG portrayals, since his personality shifted back and forth a lot back then, but that's just my personal opinion.

As for Jill and Carlos, I adore their Remake versions too, Carlos seemed so much more fleshed out in RE3Make, which he totally deserved because he's a solid character. However, I slightly prefer Jill's OG portrayals a bit better, as much as I love Nicole Tompkins.

As someone who is literally as old as the first ever RE game, I never imagined there'd end up being so much content for it by this point. I absolutely adore that my most beloved franchise is still very much alive.

[roseglazedlens]

⦑ THE FUCKING DEAD ⦒ RESOLUTION I [PART 4]

➠ series masterlist | ⏪ girl's route (part 3) | ⏪ boy's route (part 3) | ⏩ part 5

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓┇𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑┇𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐅𝐈𝐂┇𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 LEON S. KENNEDY / CARLOS OLIVEIRA / JILL VALENTINE / ADA WONG X AFAB GN! READER synopsis: With both squads going MIA, Rebecca is left with no choice but to call local B.O.W. expert: Chris Redfield for back-up. She joins Chris to fight zombies in the front lines as tension hangs high with disagreements about life and death. content: NO SMUT. human experimentation, needles, zombies, weapons. featuring my beloved rebecca chambers and chris redfield to the rescue! a/n: an update finally!! writers block kicked my ass hard, but i found my flow again! hopefully the next one will be the soon(?) « 3.8 k words | general masterlist | reblogs appreciated!

CHICAGO, 10:18 PM

In the middle of the laboratory, the pot is stirring. Time is running out. Anxiety levels are through the roof.

White coats scurry across the room with fretful urgence, one arm cradling report stacks while the other cold calls manufacturers, suppliers, and government officials in direct contact with the virus. The ones in worse conditions have their heads plant into a screen, laboured bags shadowing their eyes as they examine the abundance of complex, crude data… Anything to give them a head start on the discovery of Glenn Arias’ top secret weapon.

Meanwhile, Rebecca Chambers, B.S.A.A’s lead advisers on all things bioweapons, is multitasking all of that at the same time. She had been working on this case for restlessly days and nights, filling the gaps between the bytes and grasping loose straws at the vast possibilities with minimal success and much brain scratching.

“Water supply working in conjunction with the gas…” Rebecca thinks aloud her last exchange with Leon, which he speculates that is how Arias had been spreading his infection to communities without getting his hands dirty. It’s all just a theory for now… but what if he is right? What if there isn’t just not one strain of virus, but multiple origins of the virus?

Rebecca still needs to investigate the reports that Leon had sent much more thoroughly. It made her job harder when most of the reports attached in the transmission had been corrupted. However, Rebecca can vaguely piece together the words on top of every document, marked by a name:

CONFIDENTIAL DOCUMENT: ANIMALITY VIRUS (ABBREVIATED TO: A-VIRUS)

A sting reaches her head before she reaches her next thought. Rebecca pushes herself away from the desk, remembering her doctor recommended her five minutes away from the screen every fifteen minutes. And it had already been five hours of her grinding her head at her options. Words and numbers are bleeding into each other.

The symptoms of this so called ‘A-Virus’ are too unstable. While some have delayed symptoms of the infection, most would immediately mutate and go berserk. Yet there is also a small percentage of people who experience no reaction to the virus.

Arias is experimenting with this virus—he must be. But Rebecca needs more concrete evidence, her theories aren’t solid just yet. Fortunately, during the outbreaks, a B.O.W. impacted by the A-Virus had been detained and supplied to the laboratory for research endeavours.

Rebecca spins her armchair away from her screen. There lies a zombie in front of her, flat stone surface used as an impenetrable bed, all four limbs spread wide by cuffs bolted onto the structure itself. It barks, it growls, it snarls against its metal confines with futile resistance. There is no chance for escape.

A chain necklace jingles from its volatile motions, and amateur carving of the name ‘Elías’ can be seen on the wooden ornate at the end of the chain.

Rebecca curses under her breath, well aware she cannot make any meaningful promise in her heart to save him. The host was already too far into the lifecycle—blood cells rewritten, features indistinguishable between animal and monster. Far too late for Elías.

Once a civilian, overnight a monster. Elías didn’t deserve this, yet he is bound to a fate worse than death. A fate subjecting him to microscopical cuts of a scalpel and harsh white lights above him, hammering into his will over and over again, or whatever soul is left of it.

Rebecca isn’t innocent. She knows she isn’t. She was there in the operation room too. Doesn’t mean it feels good doing so. Sometimes, you must sacrifice one to save many. That is her conviction.

With a heavy hand, Rebecca snaps on a pair of rubber gloves. She reaches to the operation table, and the zombie winces due to muscle memory. Its piercing wails reach the ears of everyone present in the lab, like the cries of human desperation as the zombie bangs bloodied fists on the uncomfortable mattress. Nobody pays mind to it, not especially if it’s a daily occurrence.

“Sorry, Elías.” Rebecca prepares a disinfected syringe against his arm. “I really need your blood sample.”

And she presses the needle into his decaying skin, drawing barely one full ounce of blood into the barrel. This was nothing compared to what he had to go through during the week, but his body from retaliating before his senses.

“I’ll save your friends. For sure. It’s a promise.” Even if Elías can’t comprehend Rebecca’s words at his current state, she vows to him regardless, to do everything in her power to deploy a cure, so no more lives are affected.

“Professor Chambers, sorry to interrupt,” A figure taps Rebecca on the shoulder, and she relieves at the sight of his colleague Aaron holding out her usual caramel macchiato from the café next door. “I found a lead. Our specialist discovered a common denominator in the cities affected by the outbreak. A foreign element in the water supply that is also present in the subject’s body.”

“So Arias contaminated the water… He might have planned this for a while, and increase the contagion dosage in the supply gradually. That’s why not many reported the taste of water had changed… Or the virus might had been truly tasteless.” She takes a hearty gulp of her fourth coffee of the day. “And the symptoms, Aaron?”

“On the surface, there is none. We examined a few survivors living in those cities who have not turned, and no irregularity has been observed. But I suspect the virus to be dormant in the body.” Aaron picks out the examination results from his pile and hands it to Rebecca. She reads it intently.

“So there must be a trigger. It’s rather interesting how there is always a car accident moments before the outbreaks happen in every city. The story is the same: two trucks collided, cargo destroyed, causing a gas leak from the cannisters. And of course, no news coverage.”

Aaron nods as they feel their answer drawing near. “I noticed that too and did more digging. The trucks belong to a reputable logistic company, which is also a subsidiary to ARIAS Health Inc, founded by none other than Glenn Arias himself.”

“Of course it is.” She places the report down. “You’ve been helpful, Aaron. Keep finding out what you can.”

Aaron leaves and returns to his seat. All Rebecca needs to do now is to inform the agents of this new discovery so they wouldn’t fall into the trap that Arias planted, possibly in the mansion as well.

Rebecca glances over her screen for a live broadcast of a conference across the continent. And there sits Glenn Arias, listening intently at the keynote speaker, clapping and chuckling infrequently, oblivious of the hidden camera. There is still plenty of time to retrieve the sample. It would be an advantage for them to be cautious than brash.

Granted, Rebecca never had any concern about their wellbeing. This is B.S.A.A.’s five most elite agents after all, she has no doubt this assignment is child play’s to all of them.

Sure, most times the work is dangerous, often times she won’t hear from the team for a while. But one thing Rebecca knows for sure is that they always return victorious. Just like every other time… But this.

It had been two hours without a word from either groups. Rebecca dials each of the four devices, and each strike returns her a singular note of despair, foreboding something atrocious beneath the silence.

She swings around to clack frantically at her keyboard, and five dots lit up on the floor plan of the mansion. Flickering red like a faint pulse, flashing the words:

STATUS: OFFLINE.

The GPS signal is jammed. Someone must have known this. This whole disappearance is intricately calculated. Someone had plan for this to happen. Just like that day at Spencer Mansion. A zombie isn’t smart enough to do something like this.

This… This must be the work of Glenn Arias. But isn’t he supposed to be on a plane across the globe right now? So how would he had known?

Rebecca dials into the campsite. Someone must have a clue what on earth is going on down there. The line connects, fortunately.

“Hey Mike. It’s Rebecca. Any word from the squad? I can’t seem to get in contact with them, over.”

“Rh- Re- b’cca. Hey! Nh-n-not a wor-” Distorted frequencies and blends into crisp gibberish. “I -an’t he- ar you, doc. O—ver.”

At least the transmission is not fully broken yet outside the perimeters of the mansion. That relieves Rebecca, but if this continues, it would be difficult for Rebecca to assist B.S.A.A remotely from her laboratory in Chicago. She needs to be there, right in the thick of it.

“Hang tight, Mike. I’m on my way. Stand down and wait for back up, Mike. I repeat: Stand down and wait for back up, over.” Rebecca’s voice drips with tremor and fear. Catching her surprise.

“R-R-Roge-r, m’ -am. Ove—” The line cuts, but her message is delivered. Now the rest is up to Rebecca to make her next move.

She has to organise a jet ASAP, and back-up, and supplies, and the paperwork… Things has turned sour too fast.

In any case, Rebecca will need a specialist for this type of work. Especially if whatever lurks in this hellhole can defeat B.S.A.A’s greatest agents, she will need someone stronger, sturdier, skilled with dealing the unexpected among the unexpected of this new variety of zombies. And there is only one person she knows who meets this description.

She punches the number into the dial. It clicks after two rings.

“We need your help. ASAP.” says Rebecca, no formalities needed for an old friend.

And he answers, a coarse smoker’s voice rumbles into Rebecca’ ear. “I’m on my way.”

~ ~ ~

QUERETARO, 02:18 PM

Beyond Arias’ mansion at the top of the hill, forest-green envelops the vicinity like a predator. The woodlands are solemn in silence underneath the moonless night. Despite its late hours, the hot humidity fuses with human skin—leaving a sticky stench and night full of uncomfortable rests for all the soldiers in the camp.

A distant vibration can be heard amidst the hills, till the rustle gradually crescendos into a mighty howl that rocks the sky. Surfacing from the darkness is a helicopter, aerial blades whirling above the campsite. The chopper approaches closer and closer to the empty spread of land, eventually landing on the broad green carpet.

Every member at the campsite starts to rise, positioning themselves a fair distance away from the landing zone. When the cabin door unlatches, a cold quiver stiffens their backs straight in anticipation of the man in the vehicle to disembark.

And the captain emerges: with his distinct green compression shirt and a vest adorned with an embroidered patch of the B.S.A.A. logo to match as he takes a firm step and plant the ground. Chris Redfield pinches his nose bridge disgruntledly and patted on the plane’s body so the pilot departs to the sky once again.

Word on the street says that he single-handedly punched a boulder in a mission before. And with that reason alone, nobody dares to approach, still frozen on the spot, until Chris makes eye contact to the closest soldier, barely twenty in age.

“You, kid.” Chris beckons him over. He jolts and sprints into Chris’ direction.

“C-Captain Redfield! A pleasure meeting you, sir!” The young soldier stutters, shaking all over his body then straightens himself once more. “My name is Johnny, new recruit for B.S.A.A. Th-This is my first assignment, sir!”

The sight of the recruit has Chris realise his own furrowed brows from jet lag exhaustion. Chris softens his tone, pats down the rookie’s shoulder, and tries for a weary smile. “Take it easy, Johnny boy. I won’t bite.”

“Thank you so much, sir!” Johnny raises his voice in confidence, relieved to find the captain kinder than his reputation. “Captain, may I escort you to your tent?”

“No need. Where’s Rebecca?” Chris didn’t need to overstay his welcome. He’s not one to worry about formalities after all.

“Right this way, sir.”

As Johnny escorts Chris, soldiers stop and stare, clearing the way for Chris. But he pays them no mind. When he heard five members of his Special Operations Units went missing, Chris practically jumped off his seat, wrapped up his last mission as fast as he could and got here without a moment of rest. Now, he has business to finish.

Rebecca’s tent is all the way in the back, secluded away from all the other tents behind the infirmary. Chris unzips the fly screen to enter.

Rows of weaponry and equipment are propped up against the storage units with plenty of back-up firearms, grenades, flashbangs, armour pads and all the supplies needed for any kind of operation. Right in the middle of it, Chris sees a familiar pixie cut brunette, playing tug of war with some shoelaces on a stool.

And why is there an assault rifle next to her?

Rebecca notices a presence behind her, and without turning, she sees the tall bulky man and speechlessly assessing the fireweapon.

“Oh Chris, it’s been a minute, hasn’t it?” Rebecca tugs at her laces once more and the fabric tightens. She does the same for the other shoe. “Hey- pass that over, would you?”

When Rebecca said ‘that’, Chris thinks it can’t be the rifle she was referring to, right? The rifle that is almost half her size? Or could it be something behind it that he can’t see or—

“What’re you dozing off for?” Rebecca grunts and gestures the rifle with her eyes impatiently. When Chris is still unresponsive after her right shoe is done, Rebecca rises herself and retrieves it herself with a sigh.

Chris sees clearly then, that over Rebecca’s shirt is a tactical chest rig, paired with some dusty elbow and knee guards that are a size too small on her. When she walks, her belt clinks with grenades and flashbangs. A sight Chris hasn’t seen Rebecca in for a very long time, not since the good old days of S.T.A.R.S.

“Why are you wearing that?” Chris widens his stance, arms crossed, not an ounce of amusement on his face as he looks down on Rebbeca.

“What does it look like, Captain Obvious. I’m joining you.” The soldiers standing on guard tenses ever so slightly. Such audacity to the captain would get you kicked out and sentenced back to the ruthless training grounds. Yet Chris falls silent, recalling the dynamic between the old squad, then cracks into a scoff of nostalgia.

“Long time no see too, Rebecca. It’s been what- five years? Since you’ve been out of field? Give me your arm.” Rebecca accepts Chris’ offer to fix her guard, moving the padded surface a few inches to the right and pulled on the strap until it’s snug on her elbow. “You don’t even remember how to put this on anymore.”

“Hey, my memory is a little rusty on the equipment. But I haven’t forgot how to use a gun.” Rebecca reassures as she shifts around her left elbow pad too. But Chris doesn’t buy that for even a second.

“Are you sure?” He says, eyebrow quirking in incredulity. Perhaps he shouldn’t—that would just encourage her more. “This isn’t just any assignment, Rebecca. It killed five of our men.”

“More reason for me to be there. I got the brains, you got the brawns. It’ll be perfect.”

“This isn’t a TV show, you should know this already.” Chris comments, feeling the impatience cutting into his throat. He composes himself. “Maybe you should rethink about putting your life in danger.”

“I won’t be in danger. I’ve got the great Captain Chris Redfield protecting me, right?” Rebecca winks playfully. Chris frowns.

“I can’t protect you always. Who knows what shit Arias got the other five with their pants down.” He rubs against his temples, and thinks: So I’m not just worrying about my survival, but Rebecca’s too? Chris can’t be babysitting and taking down Arias at the same time.

“Well, I won’t watch my friends die while I do nothing. If there’s a chance they might survive, I need to save them.” Rebecca says through one quaking breath, before breathing in deep and adds: “We don’t know how deadly this virus is. If I’m there, I’ll be able to help them. And you too.”

“Your current state is not fit for military combat. B.S.A.A cannot lose our lead researcher. There is no replacement for you.” Says Chris.

That seems to grind against Rebecca’s gears, enough to dish back the same attitude to him. “I’m not just a tool, Chris. I want to help.”

“As your captain, I will command you to stay here and monitor the current survivors.” Chris doesn’t mean to sound like a parent, but how could he not realise this is all for Rebecca’s good?

“With all respect, Chris, you can’t play the Captain card on me anymore.” Rebecca says, eyes defiant and direct.

The lines all over Chris’ face sets deeper. Rebecca is right. He knows that. Chris is well aware that Rebecca had been keeping up with her practice, and without her, the team could be missing crucial information that is imperative to the mission’s success or failure.

Yet the thought of another dead friend lingers over Chris’ mind, possessing his very being. Him in a wasteland of debris, the sole survivor.  There is only a certain amount of times a man can go through grief without going insane.

“I’m asking you a favour on behalf of a friend.” Chris says—begs. At least, that’s the closest you will get for Chris to beg.

But Rebecca isn’t going to budge her decision. She can’t let Chris face it all alone again. She snatches the rifle off the table, and secures it into the back of her vest. Rebecca is going, regardless if the captain allows her.

“Come or not, you can choose.” Chris is out the tent before Rebecca even realises it. Only the hard thumps of footsteps to signal the finality of his choice. “But you know where I stand about this.”

Not one farewell uttered, Chris leaves Rebecca behind. The perils of their journey awaits them, in Rebecca’s head, it fills with nothing but thoughts.

~ ~ ~

QUERETARO, 2:37 AM

Small teams are the most competent in scenarios like these, which Chris took in consideration and decides on a team of five to embark on this assignment. Correction—Six, including Rebecca Chambers.

But right now, the medic is nowhere to be seen when Chris commands the selected soldiers to rise from their positions in the assembly and stand in an orderly line before Chris.

He’s relieved at Rebecca’s absence. Perhaps she has changed her mind; decided against the foolish gamble of her own life. Rebecca’s stubborn nature may refuse to admit this, but it was for the best that she assists from the backlines where she performs the best as the medic.

Chris faces the four soldiers once more, his deep set eyes sensing each soldier’s determination through their posture.

First of that row is Mike; Chris knows Mike, he had worked with him personally and his performance had been outstanding. The next two members he had never met before; two Mexican men, one slightly taller than Chris himself with a sturdy build and the other shorter who smiles carelessly.

And last of them all, there stands Johnny, the new recruit. Shaking from head to toe, scrawnier than ever. This is one hell of a first assignment a soldier can get. But it’s out of Chris’ control. B.S.A.A. is often short-staffed.

“Special Operations Unit!” Chris bellows through the crowd, his roar rumbles through the woods, has everyone present perk their ears to hear the captain’s every word. “Our objective today is to recover the A-Virus sample! Keep a lookout for missing survivors, they go by the names of: Jill Valentine, Ada Wong, Carlos Oliveira, Leon Kennedy, and—”

“Wait!” From far away, a spunky voice calls out in urgence, followed by pitter-pattering footsteps getting closer.

Approaching the assembly is Rebecca, taking shape from the darkness. She clutches at something in her arms, heaving out heavy breaths from her sprint with the rifle behind almost toppling her over.

Chris tsks under his breath. “Agent Chambers, you’re late. Care to explain yourself?”

“And thanks for waiting.” Rebecca tosses Chris a side eye.

The animosity hangs heavy in the air. Since then, the only conversations they shared since their exchange was strictly professional – and only what’s necessary about the mission, the potential causes of the virus, and how much information they are planning to reveal to the operations unit. No more, no less.

“I got presents for the team.” Rebecca greets each soldier with amicable grace while allotting something on her hand to each one. And when it is Chris’ turns, she neither smiles nor nods, a simple “here” to suffice the awkwardness between the two.

Chris takes the item from her hand, indifferent and without a word. It’s a full-face respiratory mask.

“Arias might have booby-trapped the area with poisonous gas. Consider this a precaution.” Rebecca rigs the facepiece over her features with its weak straps, the left filter popping off after she struggles it on. Then as she picks the left, the right falls off too. The rubbery sound of plastic can be heard as Rebecca moves, and her features shielded with a tinted brown film held down by hollow plastic.

“It’s not perfect, but it’ll do! I found it at this 7/11 nearby. You guys should’ve been there to see the confusion on their faces when I bought seven masks at the dead of night.” chuckles Rebecca. A few people laugh, and the tension of lives lost is temporarily distracted. Rebecca has that effect on people.

Everyone glances over at their captain expectantly. Chris is aware there is an obligation for the captain to comment on the situation.

“Thank you, Agent Chambers.” says Chris reluctantly.

“You’re welcome, Captain Redfield.” smirks Rebecca, making sure Chris had a good look at her victory before joining the end of the row with her team.

With the entire team assembled, seven soldiers wait for instructions with their gazes forward, masks secured, bodies suited and weapons ready to draw. They march past stone pillars laid with cut stones, an overgrown garden of exotic plants that are hanging on at life’s end and a lavish stone fountain before the entrance.

The squad scatters diligently behind the dark red mahogany double door, so heavy it could crush all your bones if the hinges fail.

“Are we ready, team?” Chrisdeclares before looking over at Rebecca one last time. You can still back out now.

Rebecca only returns the look with equal amount of sincerity. Seemingly trying to tell him: Not a chance.

The other four soldiers nod as one, keeping their trails soft, and they burst into the house of horror. And they didn’t notice, eyes peering out behind the voids of the curtain, looking at none other than Chris Redfield himself.

series masterlist - general masterlist thank you @scar-crossedlvrs for beta reading this, ilysm bb!

TAGLIST:

@jellybonbons @ovaryacted @daydreamrot @madcap-riflette @access--granted

@obsolescent @briermelli @secretiveauthor @ghosty-frog @navstuffs

@slowcryinginthedark @rentaldarling @lesbntired @redvleanli @vinsiliors

@whoisgami @gaylorvader @wxwieeee @eddsthemunson @fairry1

[the-kr8tor]

Lil facts about me!

I love horror movies, I have a sweet tooth, and I get flustered real easily.

Series OC face claims and comic OC art

Spidersona/oc

Current wips:

💌 Requests

💌 one year anniversary reqs

Octobie fics

Editing:

✏️

Music I'm currently listening to on repeat: Chappell Roan. recommend some songs? Mayhaps? 🥺

These are the characters I'm obsessed (in love) with! I might write for them in the future. Or if you just want to chat about them with me 🥺

Current obsession - Hobie Brown my Beloved

Faves: Morpheus/Dream of the endless and the Corinthian (The Sandman), Task force 141 men, especially Gaz my husband 🥺 including, Alejandro, Rudy, Konig, Keegan, and Hesh, Kruger (call of duty), Miguel o'hara (atsv)

Leon Kennedy, Carlos Oliveira (resident evil), Every Genshin impact character- especially, Xiao, Albedo, and Diluc.

Q (Daniel craig's bond), Santino D'Antonio and John Wick (John Wick), Gojo,Getou and Nanami (jjk)

Joel Miller (tlou) Rhaenyra, Aemond Targaryen (hotd), Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington (stranger things), Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid (criminal minds), Gregory House (house md), Jason Todd (batman), James Conrad (kong skull Island), Arthur Morgan (rdr2), Louis (iwtv) Levi (aot) Peter Parker (tasm), tangerine (bullet train)

And so much more I can't remember from the top of my head lol

[chloe-online]

request:

@aido-mitarashi: All of the requests for carlos!! Feed me some prompts or whatever xD Do you do requests? How about Carlos, Leon and Chris and Cats? Could they be cat dads? XD what if they meet a cat mom who adores their little fluffy baby? Cats!!!!

that's adorable! thank you for requesting!

Chris Redfield:

- chris is a big dude so when someone finds out about his fur babies they're surprised. even more so when/if they saw how gentle and soft he was towards them.

- Chris doesn't try to hide the fact he has kittens at home but he definitely doesn't go around telling his coworkers. if someone asked him about pets hed tell them but then change the subject.

- his lock screen is his little fur babies. if he has a s/o, it would be them with his kittens because those are the two things he loves. if someone pointed out and asked whats on his home screen hed tell them but give no details.

- when he's at home his kittens are always in the room (except for the bathroom) he loves to have his kittens around, it really changes his attitude.

- he loves to play with his kittens and just spend time with them.

- when he goes out to family dinners or events he brings them with him. unless there's a possibility that they could get hurt or lost.

- he would get his sister to pet sit for them when hes away on long missions. if shes busy then maybe sherry or someone he trusts to keep them safe.

- if he had a s/o that loved his kittens he'd just be in awe. date nights were always at his place so that they could see them. he wouldn't tell them but Chris definitely has pictures or videos of them playing with the cats on his phone. he loves to look back at them during missions to remind himself that he has his s/o and kittens to get back to. they keep him motivated

Leon Kennedy

- Leon treats his cats like the little angels they are. its adorable watching him give them belly scratches and use his cute baby voice on them.

- his camera roll is just littered with pictures of his babies. he'll be looking for a picture of something from his latest mission to show you and you'll just see dozens upon dozens of cat pictures and when you ask him about all them he just dismisses your question and angles his phone away from you.

- he definately has photo shoots for his cats. hes got cat shirts, hats, onsies, glasses oh my! he loves to dress up his cats and take pictures of them in fron of back drops. he hides all the evidence of this obviously.

- hes got toys upong toys like the dude has no self control. hes got two bins for cat toys because one bin was no where near enough. hes on the verge of needing another bin.

- if he finds out hes dating someone that loves cats hes taking them directly to his place. at red lights he'll whip out his phones to show them pictures.

- once they start playing with his cats and asking to go over to his house just to see him and the cats. (he definately has his homescreen as a picture of them and his cats.)

- leon loves his cats to death and takes pride in them. (compliment his cats and you will get a ring on your finger and a lot of cuddles ;))

Carlos Oliveira

- oh god. you know how chris and leon were with their cats? carlos is just so much more. hes almost extra.

- so obviously carlos is a very lovey dovey man, and same goes with his cats. he just loves them. snuggles, kisses, petting, his cats get all of the above.

- carlos has given up on bins for his cat toys. they're simpily in a pile in his living room. he swears he'll get bins but lets be real, thats not happening.

- carlos playing with his cats is top 3 on worlds cutests sights. hes tickling their stomach while his fur baby is swatting at his hair. 10/10 recommed imagining this or seeing this (if you're lucky) it will melt your heart.

- his cats have been on the covers of some small pet magazines. while its a small magazine company its still a big acomplishment for him.

- if he finds someone that loves his cats AND can deal with him being gone on missions he will immediately ring you up.

- he loves coming home to you using one of his large shirts as a dress playing with his cats. its the most relaxing thing to come back to after a long mission. and if he comes home to you sleeping while snuggling his cats? he'll melt. he will be putty in your hands once you wake up and he tells you about how he found you when he cames home.

- honestly his cats are spoiled. lots of toys, high quality food, and they get groomed, they get their nails done, and get the best treatment. spoiled babies.

hi! sorry this took so long, i got my hair cut for the first time in about three years and last time i hated the result and it traumatized me from getting my hair cut. but i got it cut today and ive been stressing over it since tuesday, and on top of my stress ive been feeling terrible mentally. and if u were wondering, yes it came out amazing and my hair is honestly prettier than me but we are getting off topic. i'll be working on requests i just cant promise i'll be posting any more tonight or tomorrow. but i hope you enjoyed this sloppy post, i did my best!

[softdadleon]

Jill my beloved

[clownfactories]

[disneymarina]

To: @thatgoblin

From: Carlos Oliveira

Dear my beloved,

May our winter be full of laughter and joy. I want you to be in my arms and me loving you. I give you the best gift. That gift is marriage! I want to marry you and have you forever and ever.

Love,

Carlos oliveira