Chapter Text
"You are dismissed, Redfield! Never in my 35-year career have I encountered such insubordination. You have brought disgrace upon my platoon, this army, and the very same values you swore to uphold for this great nation! Hand in your badge! Hand in your firearms! You will receive a court martial for such shameful conduct!"
The Army Major exclaimed, awashed in crimson, his unfettered ire solely directed at his non compliant subordinate.
"Do as you please! Do you really think I'm going to be intimidated by a bloated gas bag like you? Keep barking mutt......do your worst!"
Challenges the soldier, steadfast in his defiance. Irreverently pointing a finger square at the Major.
"Officer Redfield! Get out! Get out of my office! I will see to it personally that you will never get hired again in the Armed forces! Well, maybe if they are hiring in Baghdad! But as far as this country goes, your blacklisted Redfield! Court is going to tear you up faster than a wet tissue in a snot party! Now get out! Do not let me see you again. Out!!!"
Spluttered the older man risking a jugular vein distention from his unadulterated rage, vision becoming blurry, face cast in crimson.
The soldier glares at his Commanding Officer, unflinching at the verbal tirade and the possible injunction his actions will likely incur. The soldier exits the office with a mighty slam of the heavy wooden door. The force of which whips up a gust, scattering the Majors' paper around his office. A final act of indignation from the impertinent young Captain. Screw rank and this hierarchy bullshit the army seem to cream over! This was an action of last recourse from an individual who has nothing else left to lose!
"FUCK YOU, Old Man!!!"
He hisses, flipping the bird adding one more final indignant exclaimation to his exit.
Chris Redfield forever the obstinate, abandoning his military career perceiving his actions were fully justified. This would ultimately end up being his final trangression in the Air Force. He is fully aware that the trial would deem him guilty. Who is he, but one man standing up to the years old tradition of following orders? But no matter how the Armed Forces tried to create a robot out of him, his morals remained strong. Certainly to his detriment as there's no escaping this one though; his life will have to start anew.
Dishonourable discharges carry with it a lot a weight and stigma amongst the populous. Reputation will most likely be in tatters; however, he leaves the Forces with the same indomitable spirit and that strong sense of justice intact. All is not lost; he still has that, right? This particular soldier will not be broken by politics or cast a blind eye to the increasingly immoral actions sent from the chain of command. This man has honour despite how the military will try to sully his name.
(It's the lives of my men that matter; no one gets left behind, screw orders! Screw the entire army for all I care! No one else will needlessly die under my watch.)
Chris walks out of the military airfield, honours and titles stripped. The very same institution he sacrificed so much for casting him out as a pariah, to become nothing more than a disgrace.
But this soldier doesn't see it that way! Leaving with only a dufflebag and his pride, he can return home with his head held high; they didn't and couldn't break him.
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(So, back to square one after all that nonsense with the Airforce, I find myself back home in Raccoon City).
Chris sighs as he approaches the big welcome sign back to his quaint mid western hometown.
(This place hasn't changed one bit in the five years I rose to the rank of Captain. It almost feels like a lifetime ago, we'll jist have to see what this place has got in store for me. Home sweet home, I guess.)
Thoughts racing as what to do next, driving through the long winding roads in silence in his busted old pick-up truck, he can ruminate his vindication from the events prior.
Raccoon City named a city despite its small size; the original founders perceived 'Raccoon Town' to be rather gauche. So, misleadingly, they tacked on 'City' in the name, and invariably, it stuck. The name was inspired and derived from its banded mammalian residents - the common raccoon. Raccoon city boasts the highest population per square kilometre in the USA, of what some would consider as pests. A fun fact for you.
The rolling fields, the big silos, the muted distant sounds of livestock, a small mountain town was set attune to the sounds of mild gusts of winds blowing in from the mountains. This provided a backdrop to an often solemn atmosphere, a timecapsule of how one could imagine a small town in 1950s America was set.
Raccoon City has resisted the almost sterile impersonal modern world in favour of a more community driven goods and service exchange from a bye gone era. Conversation here is still an artform; very rarely do it's residents bury themeselves on their smartphones shutting all out. They have the time and they make the time for each other. Agriculture is at the apex of this abode; to the locals, humdrum has no meaning, but amongst the sweeping plains and tilled earth, it is a way of life. It is all the residents know, and it will forever remain an immutable aspect of their understated existence.
A short drive through town and back into the small apartment, situated opposite a trucker's rest stop, a home he once shared with his younger sister Claire. Life was never easy for the siblings, seemingly betrayed by life; they were made orphans, for Claire at birth, but luckily they were taken in by benevolent guardians to grow in this small town.
The apartment was passed down to him by his foster parents, both of which tragically died from a traffic accident involving a drunk driver when he was 14. Thus, at that tender age, he had to grow up quickly for the sake of his younger sister. They didn't have much but what his foster parents lacked in monetary assets they made up for with love. Instilling honourable values of trust, valour, loyalty, and empathy to both Chris and Claire. It was these very same values that became a blessing and a curse to his career in the Airforce. It allowed him to think beyond orders and more often than not, to go against.
Chris opens the door to the apartment, just how he left it those many years ago. Dusty and cold, but the rooms still hummed with the fond memories of his non-traditional upbringing. 3 bedroom, kitchen cum lounge, and 2 bathrooms furnished with a few pieces of oak furniture he crafted during his youth, no frills, functional and oddly clean (barring dust) - despite being vacant for several years.
(Don't have nothing; don't need nothing.)
Chris ponders his current new setup. He's going to make a home out of this place; his foster parents would have wanted it that way.
Chris knew word would spread about his dismissal rather quickly around town. The Airman imagined that it would be somewhat of a breaking news bulletin amongst the excitement starved locals of Raccoon City. But to his surprise, nobody batted an eyelid, the populous opting to continue living their mundane lives, no earwigging, no whispers, no gossip. None of their business.
Chris made his way over to the convenience store, a relic of a by gone era. The majority of this town's wheeling and dealing were conducted here. Providing news, job posts, general chit chat, and even an information kiosk for out of towners - whom seldom visit.
"Hey Chris, long time no see son. What can I do for ya?"
The older gent greets from behind the counter.
The traditional ma and pa store has served as a convenience store to Raccoon City for over 50 years. Maury knew Chris from when he was a child and couldn't help but feel rather paternal over the young man. Aware of his story or rather his tragedy.
What the Airman didn't know was that Maury played a major part in helping Chris out during those formative years, helping the young Chris support himself and his sister through odd jobs for Maury and the townsfolk. Recognising all too well, the young stalwart will be too stubborn to accept free handouts. Maury played as a silent benefactor and guardian to the two misfortunate youths. In fact, it was Maury who pointed Chris to his eventual career path into the Airforce like his own son Barry.
The same guidance was also used to steer Claire on the right path. To focus and apply her startling intellect and charm to the path of education, it is yet to be seen if Claire will become a teacher or professor following her studies. But whatever she decides to be, he's sure she will prove to be a resounding success.
The great influence he exuded on the siblings was immense, but much like the residents, Maury chose stoicism on the matter and most importantly, it was,
'None of my god damn business'.
Maury, however, usually so reticent, did allow an unspoken quiet pride to creep in. What the siblings did achieve throughout the years could almost tantamount as a marvel. A triumph the siblings earned despite the almost insurmountable odds.
"Hey Maur! Yeah, all good here! I wanted to see if there were any jobs going? Is there anything to tie me over until I get something more permanent?"
Chris greets, questioning the gent about odd jobs in town.
"Anyway, how have you been old timer?"
Chris adds hugging the old man like a long-lost relative.
"Peachy, everything's peachy. Well, ya plannin' on staying longer this time, son? There might be some ranch hand jobs still around. I could ask around if ya want?"
Maury furrowed his brows, looking at the bulletin board, his drawl a familiar comforting sound to Chris.
"Yeah, I think so. I'll be staying for a while this time, I think. But yeah, that would be great, thanks, Maur. It's great to see you again!"
Chris smiled, Maury smiles back.
"Oh wait, hold up! There's that Nivans ranch just outside of town, ah'ite. I heard that them new folk don't know much about nuttin' when it comes to ranchin'. Show 'nuff they could do wit sum help. Give them a holler, Chris."
Maury drawls, passing over a piece of paper with the phone number and address of said ranch.
Chris stepped out the small shop thanked Maury and made his way out to his red pick-up. Not quite like flying a F-15EX Eagle II and smashing the sound barrier at mach 2 speed into the stratosphere. Or commanding a troop of hardened soldiers into battle. But horses for courses, this is his new life and he will make the best out of it. He survives and adapts that is what he does best.
As per Maury's instruction, Chris heads immediately over to Ranch Nivans to scout out these newbies from outta town. He just hopes that the vacancy that's advertised is still open.
(The outskirts of town on Rockfort Road.......look for a big sign)