Disclaimer: I do not own the Resident Evil franchise.

Chapter One.

It was hot. It had been a painful three years to the legendary Chris Redfield. One of the "Original Eleven" found members of the Bio-terrorism Security Assessment Alliance, otherwise known as the B.S.A.A. He was a field operative, and since the apparent demise of his old partner and friend, he preferred to work alone althought he would be reluctantly paired with a newbie.

"I think I'm getting old for this," Chris says to him as he drives the H2 Hummer to his destination to meet his new partner.

Chris Redfield was among the surviving S.T.A.R.S. members that escaped the fate of Racoon City. He still had his old uniform but he lost his modified Beretta 92F dubbed the Samurai Edge. He remembers what it was like being a S.T.A.R.S. officer. He remembers the horrors he underwent. He remembers fighting Tyrant and being betrayed by his commanding officer- Albert Wesker. Since the betrayal, he had been on a hunt for Albert Wesker. It was a personal vendetta and the hatred was fueled even more when he attempted to kill his baby sister, Claire Redfield, another survivor of the wipe-out of Racoon City. But that was the least of his problems. Chris reached his destination and turned off the SUV. He was about to step out, but he got stuck. His biceps ended up getting in the middle of his way out.

"What the fu-- DAMN IT ALL! Okay... you put your right hand in... you put your right hand out... oh, wait. How did I get in the Hummer again? Something about row-row your boat? Give me a moment..." Chris mutters to himself.

A woman, approximately standing at five feet seven inches approached Chris Redfield. She appeared to be of African descent, but unlike the locals, she seemed dressed for urban and tactical investigations. She had numerous piercings on her ears, and her clothing was proper to fit the weather conditions of Kijuju.

"Welcome to Africa. I'm Sheva Alo... mar," she introduces herself as she watches Chris Redfield struggling to get out of the H2 Hummer. She watched him doing stupid manuevers to get out of the vehicle but it seems as fate is being a cruel mistress to him. He even ended up getting his legs stuck in the vehicle.

"GOD DAMN IT! WHY THE HELL ARE THESE HUMMERS SO SMALL?!" Chris complains.

"Maybe you should try going out side-ways?" Sheva suggested.

"Oh, right. Thanks." Chris turned his body to the side and slipped out of the Hummer. He slammed the door rather hard and the window shattered. Chris furrowed his eyebrows and began stomping his foot, rambling about not paying off the Hummer and not having insurance, even though the Hummer was personally handed to him by the B.S.A.A.

"You okay?" Sheva asks, a bit intimidated at Chris Redfield punching dents into the vehicle.

"Huh, what? Oh. Hey. Hey! You speak English!" Chris smiled.

"Uh, yeah. I'm Sheva Alomar," Sheva reintroduces herself to Chris.

"Hey, Shiva. Chris Redfield," he says, extending his hand out to shake hers. Sheva looks at it cautiously, obviously afraid of her delicate hands being crushed.

"It's Sheva."

"That's what I said. Shiva."

"No, Sheva."

"Shiva."

"Sheva."

"Shiva."

"SHE-VA."

"YEAH, SHIVA!" Chris shouted.

"All right, all right! Shiva! It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Redfield. It's an honor." Sheva takes Chris' hand and shakes it, and surprisingly, they shook hands without Sheva's breaking.

"Just Chris, thanks. So you'll be accompanying me to the destination?"

"Yes. Tensions are running high ever since the change of new government. George W. Bush is planning to ransack Kijuju and Obama is considering a counter-measure."

"I'll bet. Intel says it's a haven for terrorists now."

"And they're not going to be happy to see an American, B.S.A.A. or not. That's why I'm your partner. To help with an ease." Sheva walks away nonchalantly. She had to walk away from Chris for she was blushing at how rugged and handsome, and not to mention how muscular he appears. That, and she really doesn't want to see what happens if Chris Redfield rips out his shirt and turns green all of a sudden.

"I'm sure you'll do just fine... partner," Chris says to himself when he caught himself say "partner." You see, he lost Jill three years ago. And since then, he lost the will to bench press nine-hundred pounds while leg curling six-hundred. He doesn't even eat HOOAH! bars anymore.

"Y-you o-okay?" Sheva asks out of concern for the sake of both of them.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah, sorry, it's nothing. Let's go."

"S-sure..."

"So what's this about a check-point? I didn't bring my passport."

"Don't worry, I'll handle everything."

More and more, he finds himself wondering if it's all worth fighting for. Maybe one day, Chris Redfield will find out. Chris and Sheva reach the outer walls of the shanty towns and they are stopped by a muscular African guard. The guard eyes Sheva up and down with eyes filled with seething hate. Chris clenches his jaws and balls his fists in case he needs to deliver a can o' ass-whoopin'.

"What the hell, Sheva? No call? I thought we had something special, yo'!" the guard begins yelling and crying at the same time.

"Uh... who are you again?" Sheva asks nervously.

"I'm Shaq!"

"The basketball player?"

"No, I'm Shaqaq O'Quack! I thought we shared something special... remember that one night we had together?"

"One night together? When I kept beating your ass in Mercenaries Reunion?"

"Yeah."

"... You make it sound like we had a fling. And we only met once! Well, unless you're not counting right now."

"The most precious moment of my life!"

"Urgh, just let us through."

"Oh, right. Welcome to Africa, Chris." Shaqaq O'Quack saluted Chris Redfield after patting Sheva up and down, hoping to cope a feel but Chris punched his face and sent him flying into the sky. "TEAM ROCKET IS BLASTING OFF AGAAAAIIIN!"

"How did he know my name?" Chris asked out of curiosity.

"Dude, look at the big name tag on your shirt. Plus, you stick out like a sore thumb here. What's with the zebra stripe shirt and pants?"

"I felt like going safari." Chris smiled.

"... Right. Safari Chris."

The doors opened and Chris inhaled, and then exhaled. He didn't want to hyperventilate because he developed a serious case of Badonkadonkaphobia. He doesn't even know why he calls claustrophobia that. Maybe because he hasn't had sex since Jill willingly sacrificed herself to kill Wesker and save Chris' life. Instead, he got stuck listening to songs from Air Supply at night and masturbating to pictures of Jill. Just like old times, when both were in S.T.A.R.S. together and before Chris became so herculean to the point where Jill couldn't resist herself. Sheva and Chris entered the shanty towns.

"Chris to Kirk. We've reached the area. Can you hear us, Kirk?"

"JESUS IS LOVE!"

"What the..." Sheva raised an eyebrow.

"I think we accidentally switched to Kirk Cameron's radio frequency. Kirk, this is Chris. Can you hear us?"

"Read you loud and clear, Chris. Go ahead and meet the informant at the butcher shop. Alpha Team is waiting for you."

"All right, Kirk. Heading over to the butcher shop," Sheva responds.

"Who the hell is this?"

"That's Shiva, Kirk." Chris winks and gives a thumbs up to Sheva.

"The Final Fantasy summon?" Kirk asks.

"No. She's black."

"Hey!" Sheva protests.

"Well, you're African, aren't you, Shiva?"

"No, not that! I'm not a Final Fantasy summon!"

"Oh, you mean Sheva Alomar. Good luck, Chris. Kirk out."

"Well, that was a bit racist. Sorry, Shiva."

"What's racist?"

"Me calling you black."

"So? You're white. I just don't want to be called a Final Fantasy summon. Plus, I'm a native of Africa. Where am I going to be throwing icicles? My hand? My butt? ALL GUYS ARE THE SAME! YOU'RE ALL FULL OF SHIT! EVEN LEON KENNEDY! I HATE MEN!" Sheva sobbed.

"Hey! HEY! Calm down! Shhh, I'm here. It's okay, Shiva." Chris hugged Sheva and comforted her as much as he can. Sheva sobbed on Chris' clothes and he could feel the tears going through the material of his clothing touching his steel-hard pecs. "Everything is going to be okay, Shiva! WE'LL GET THROUGH THIS! WE CAN TRUST MEN ONCE MORE!"

"O... kay. You... can... let go... NOW!" Sheva tried escaping Chris' grasp.

"Oh, sorry."

"Sheesh. And what do you mean by 'we'?" Sheva raised an eyebrow.

"Huh? Oh, that. I meant you. I got caught up in the moment."

"Riiight. Anyway, wouldn't you rather be back in America than a place like this?"

"Not necessarily. Not every American is too fond of their country, especially the stupidity ratio escalating to the point where Mensa is on a ground alert. It's a capitalist society. You win, someone else loses. And at what cost?"

"You don't sound like any other American I've met."

"That's a great thing about us Americans. We're all different."

"... And you're dead sexy..." Sheva whispers.

"Not to mention the diverse selection of those morons who claim they're 'true' Americans. We came from Europe."

"... you're dead sexy..."

"Then again, we can consider Native Americans true Americans."

"... I want to rub my boobs on your biceps..."

"What?"

"Huh?"

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

"Ahhh... Chris Redfield... go around to the corner..." Reynard informed Chris and Sheva.

Sheva and Chris went around the butcher shop. Sheva was actually behind him, watching how his naturally flexed triceps showed perfectly. She pondered what the shirt was hiding. Maybe a huge set of abs, a giant set of pecs... and maybe a dumb tattoo of Spongebob.

"Hrm... I wonder what the lower half holds..." Sheva pondered.

"HIYAH!" Chris kicked down the door and it slammed the butcher who happens to be their informant. "OH, SHIT! DUDE, WHAT HAPPENED?!" Chris rushed to the butcher who was completely flattened by the awesome power applied to the door from his monster kick. Sheva sweat-dropped.

"You're such a dick, Chris." Sheva furrowed her eyebrows at him.

"Hey, it's not my fault!" Chris protested.

"Yes, it kind of is." Sheva folded her arms.

"Kind of? It IS his fault! Anyway. You two, this way. It may be a change in the new government but the people here are a little on edge. You should do what you came here to do and go home." Reynard led them to a weapons attache case.

"Yeah, they really roll the red carpet for us Americans." Chris scoffed. And farted. He scoffed to cover his fart but it was loud anyway. And it obviously smelled because Reynard hurled over to puke and Sheva closed her nose. Chris looked left and right and started fanning his... fanny.

"I have your weapons here. Check them." Reynard pointed at the attache case. He still had some vomit smothered on his mouth and apron.

Chris grabbed the case but accidentally broke the handle. Sheva slapped her forehead and Chris just ripped the damn thing apart. A pair of handguns fell down with a few extra magazine clips as well as a utility belt and a utility vest that held a MercWorx Goliath knife. Sheva and Chris had to pick up their inventory from the ground because Chris had to rip the case into pieces. Sheva and Reynard didn't even think that it was even possible to rip apart a titanium suitcase by man. Then again, there were rumors that Chris Redfield had run ins with boulders. After equipping themselves with the proper gear and Chris getting rid of his "Safari Chris" attire, Sheva looks to Reynard while Chris looked at Sheva's breasts, pretending to fix his handgun. Little did Chris know was that Sheva knew he was ogling her and she smirked and blushed.

"Destination coordinates?"

"Square town is up ahead. Alpha Team is waiting at the deal location."

"Good."

"What do you know about Uroboros?" Reynard ask in a dark tone. That caught Chris' attention.

"Mostly just rumors. Something about visions of a doomsday project and having similar names with a Devil May Cry opposition."

"Doomsday sounds about right and apparently, it is no rumor."

"You are KIDDING, right?" Sheva asked in disbelief. She made it out like she was in complete shock but she wanted an excuse to jump up so her bosom can bounce. Now THAT caught Chris' attention.

"I need to go take a dump. You two... be careful out there." And with that, Reynard left to the bathroom. Chris and Sheva looked at each other.

"Well, it's just you and me again. I wonder if all of the residents here are evil," Chris pondered. "I think we're in Resident Evil."

"... What?"

"Nothing. Just had a weird thought in mind. Come on." Chris walked up to a few crates and wooden barrels and smashed them with his fists instead of his knife. He found ammo and gold. "Awesome! We can buy drinks at that vendor I saw earlier."

"... Wow, and this happens to be the legendary Chris Redfield I heard about. What a douche."

"All right, remember this: We're a team, we stick by together and we'll get things through," Chris told Sheva as he began to exit the butcher shop.

"Don't worry, I may not be as BIG as you but I can..."

"OH, SHIT! I'M STUCK!"

"... hold out on my own..."

Chris got stuck in between the door way and now he's kicking his legs, trying to release himself.

"HQ, this is Sheva. I think we might need some lubricants. Chris Redfield just got stuck..."

"DAMN IT ALL!"

Will Chris and Sheva be able to continue their mission? Stay tuned and find out.

AN: Don't get me wrong; I like Chris Redfield. I just thought it'd be fun to take him away from his serious attitude and poke humor at his musculature. Reviews will be flattering but they're not necessary. Flames will warrant a roundhouse kick to your face.