Paperwork and PTSD
Jul 9, 2021 1:43:25 GMT
Post by manofboldandboulder on Jul 9, 2021 1:43:25 GMT
Chris Redfield sighed, looking over the mountains of paperwork that had to be completed by today. Honestly, if this was what Wesker had had to deal with day after day, no wonder he went crazy and tried to destroy the world. There was just no way this hadn't been a factor in his turn to the 'Dark Side' because honestly, Chris was deliberating doing something drastic himself just to get out of doing such mundane tasks. Chris had never done well with authority, all the way back to elementary school and he'd only gotten worse.
The edges of his lips twitched as he remembered earlier times, long past. His education, ascending into adulthood. His time in the military. His time in STARS.
...Wesker.
The would be smile dissipated from his expression as he shook his head. No. He wouldn't lose himself to his memories. That would only result in disaster. In him finding a friend at the bottom of a bottle he said he'd never touch again.
Clearing his throat, Chris picked up the pen he'd briefly set down when he heard hurried footsteps coming to his office. Years of his life depending on it had made his ears keen. He stood and went to the door, opening it before the flustered man on the other side could even get the chance to reach out and touch the knob.
"What's the issue?" His tone came out snappier than he intended for it to be. Shit. He sounded like one of those people in charge. One he was well aqcuainted with. The ones that couldn't give less of a damn about their people. Whose worst days were spent in a cushy office while his soldiers died on the battlefield, without a soft footrest to set his feet upon. As an attempt to make up for the stern voice, he gave the smallest smile to his coworker.
"Sir, it's- There's been an incident, sir, in the shooting range. We were supposed to training others on proper gun etiquette, but- it's Samuel, sir. He's been shot."
Chris' eyes widened at this. "What?!" The first thought that came to mind, a part of him he despised, immediately worried about having to inform Samuel's family of his passing. That was quickly shut down as Chris composed himself. "What happened?"
"He was assigned to Winters as a partner, sir. When it came time for them to switch, Samuel tried to reach for the gun while Winters still had the protective headphones on. My best guess is Winters must have thought he was being attacked and accidentally shot at Samuel. It went through his leg. He was immediately taken to the infirmary. I stopped there before coming to you, Sir. They say he'll be alright, that it was a clean shot."
Chris sighed. Fuck. He supposed this was what he got for allowing civilians to train with greenhorn soldiers.
"Okay. Thank you. Where's Winters? Can you please bring him here? I'd like to speak with him."
The coworker nodded. "Yes sir. It'll be just a few moments, I believe he's still at the infirmary with Samuel."
And then the coworker was hurrying off, leaving Chris to rub his face and sigh. Damn it. When he'd hoped for a distraction from his mundane tasks, he hadn't exactly been wishing for such a deviation from the norm. Shit.
The edges of his lips twitched as he remembered earlier times, long past. His education, ascending into adulthood. His time in the military. His time in STARS.
...Wesker.
The would be smile dissipated from his expression as he shook his head. No. He wouldn't lose himself to his memories. That would only result in disaster. In him finding a friend at the bottom of a bottle he said he'd never touch again.
Clearing his throat, Chris picked up the pen he'd briefly set down when he heard hurried footsteps coming to his office. Years of his life depending on it had made his ears keen. He stood and went to the door, opening it before the flustered man on the other side could even get the chance to reach out and touch the knob.
"What's the issue?" His tone came out snappier than he intended for it to be. Shit. He sounded like one of those people in charge. One he was well aqcuainted with. The ones that couldn't give less of a damn about their people. Whose worst days were spent in a cushy office while his soldiers died on the battlefield, without a soft footrest to set his feet upon. As an attempt to make up for the stern voice, he gave the smallest smile to his coworker.
"Sir, it's- There's been an incident, sir, in the shooting range. We were supposed to training others on proper gun etiquette, but- it's Samuel, sir. He's been shot."
Chris' eyes widened at this. "What?!" The first thought that came to mind, a part of him he despised, immediately worried about having to inform Samuel's family of his passing. That was quickly shut down as Chris composed himself. "What happened?"
"He was assigned to Winters as a partner, sir. When it came time for them to switch, Samuel tried to reach for the gun while Winters still had the protective headphones on. My best guess is Winters must have thought he was being attacked and accidentally shot at Samuel. It went through his leg. He was immediately taken to the infirmary. I stopped there before coming to you, Sir. They say he'll be alright, that it was a clean shot."
Chris sighed. Fuck. He supposed this was what he got for allowing civilians to train with greenhorn soldiers.
"Okay. Thank you. Where's Winters? Can you please bring him here? I'd like to speak with him."
The coworker nodded. "Yes sir. It'll be just a few moments, I believe he's still at the infirmary with Samuel."
And then the coworker was hurrying off, leaving Chris to rub his face and sigh. Damn it. When he'd hoped for a distraction from his mundane tasks, he hadn't exactly been wishing for such a deviation from the norm. Shit.