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Chris Redfield was the kind of man that people tended to judge solely on his appearance as all muscle, no brain. If they were to look at the amount of protein that he consumed per week combined with the hours at the gym, plus the obvious military history, that seemed to be the only conclusion one could reach. The Jeep, the uniform, the boots, the haircut, paired with the precision and efficiency with which he grocery shopped and ran errands pointed to a strict routine that could never be deviated from.
And yet… here he was. Messing up all those stereotypes and once again gobsmacking his subordinates.
At the largest Renaissance Fair in Tuxedo Park, New York on the weekend.
Dressed in a flowing deep blue pirate-esque top, deep brown riding pants, and black boots that went up to his knees, a scabbard and sword prop buckled at his left hip and leather pouch to his right. Leon, Claire, Jill, and Carlos were all similarly attired, Rebecca and Claire in layered medieval dress costumes complete with faux corsets.
Lobo halted in his tracks in his quest for a turkey leg as he took in the group’s appearance while they wandered from booth to booth looking at the goods available for the weekend. Night Howl smacked right into him from behind, not paying attention in time.
“OOF! What’s your issue?”
“Captain and crew at two o’clock.” Night Howl turned his head to look, doing a doubletake.
“Oh my God!” He grabbed his phone immediately, snapping some quick pictures and tossing them into the group chat as fast as his thumbs would work. This was too good to pass up!
Fenrir: …Wow… I’m over at the blacksmith and totally missed that walking by!
Canine: Right! Forgot the ren faire started up a few weekends ago. They have the turkey legs still? Alpha looks like he could solo the Knights Tournament.
Lobo: I’m still looking for the turkey, had to stop when we saw this.
Tundra: I see Alpha doesn’t skip leg day. Where did he get boots that fit like that? I need to know because his fit better than mine do.
Umber Eyes: Everyone want to meet for dinner at the tavern there? I heard they were adding a patio because it was so popular last year. Food’s amazing.
Canine: Hell yeah! I’m getting dressed and jumping in the car now!
Tundra: Pick me up, please?!
Canine: On my way
Piers nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Chris heading towards his spot at the blacksmith.
“Hey Piers, didn’t know you liked these kinds of festivals.”
“Sir, hello. Yeah, I love the details this smith puts into his blades. Almost enough to make me switch from being a sniper to close combat specialist."
“Just Chris, off the clock. I have a few of his pieces, and his wife makes bespoke jewelry as well as stuff for mass appeal. Gorgeous stuff. My combat knife was forged by this smith, actually.” He grinned, examining the balance of weight of a set of throwing knives. Piers perked.
“You’ve been here before?”
“Many times. A lot of the artisans here travel all season with the faires as they go from state to state. Claire and I have found a ren faire in the summer or fall every year since I got custody of her when our parents died. The only year we couldn’t go was ’98, self-explanatory why though.”
Selecting the throwing knives as well as a 16” dagger with leather a red leather grip to the pommel, he paid for his items. Walking to the next stall with Piers on his heel after making his own purchase he perused the jewelry on offer. He picked a few pieces as gifts, having them wrapped in tissue paper before adding them to his bag as he paid.
“What brings you here this weekend Piers?”
“John and Dion mentioned it, I hadn’t had the chance to come to one of these things before.” He smiled a bit sheepishly.
“And you came alone? That’s a crime Nivans. Nobody solos a faire. I can’t let this stand; you’re coming with the rest of us.” When he was sure Piers was done browsing the jewelry, he put a hand on his shoulder, drawing him into his side before walking back to the group across the thoroughfare. Piers blinked as he heard “Freebird” being played on a hammered dulcimer nearby.
Claire lit up when she saw the pair coming back, “Chris found a stray! Welcome Piers!” Jill chuckled.
“Hey Nivans, first time here? Chris tends to find the newbies and adopts them for the night. Big Mama Hen, that one.”
“I do not. They find me first.”
“Being over six feet and dressed like that does constitute as a green flag for the lost.” Carlos quipped.
“Hi, and yeah… that obvious?” A blush colored his cheeks and ears.
“You aren’t in costume, so just a tad.”
“Dion and John are here somewhere. Rolando, Charlie, and Emily are on their way too.”
“They can join us as well, the more the merrier!” Claire smiled to Piers.
“Are you sure? We were planning on meeting up at the tavern for dinner later. Don’t want to spoil any plans you guys already have.”
“Chris will have to fight somebody for the seats, but we can definitely all do dinner at the tavern.” She grinned. Piers paled a little.
“Uh… fight for it?”
“Arm wrestle. If you can best the strongman, you get seats with a round of drinks on the house.” Jill explained, pointing to the biceps on Chris. “He has gotten us seats every year he’s come. Knew those boulder punching biceps would be good for something outside of combat one day.”
“He’s badass with furniture moving too. Carried my couch by himself twice now.” Rebecca chirped.
“Up two flights of stairs, if I remember right.” Leon mused.
Chris snorted softly as they moved on to keep exploring. Piers messaged the rest of the Wolves with location updates and the open invitation to join the group upon arrival. Time flew by until it was about five p.m., time to head over for dinner at the tavern. Through the open windows, it could be seen that the inside was crowded, not able to accommodate their numbers, but the extended patio would serve perfectly. Walking up to the hostess at the front, Claire smiled brightly before addressing her.
“Greetings! We seek comfort and a hot meal.”
“Hail Weary Travelers! How many in your party?”
“Eleven tired souls in need of respite.”
“By the stars, that’s nearly half a village! I fear that you must win the right to enter, have you a champion willing to duel?”
“Yes, my brother.” She grinned, patting Chris’ back and nudging him forward.
The Wolves watched as the hostess directed Chris over to the official “battle table”. And their eyes popped a bit as there was an actual strongman, quite a famous one, standing at the table in a leather jerkin with his massive arms on full display and a wide grin as he beckoned them over. He looked Chris up and down, taking in the loose sleeves and general bagginess of the whole shirt.
“You’re back again this year! Come, I’ve been training for this since last year.” He laughed and put a massive elbow down on the table. Chris followed suit, both powdering their hands with a little chalk.
“Is the sirloin platter still the best on the menu?”
“Yep, and more popular than ever. They brought back the chicken pasties as well. Let’s make a good show, seems you’ve got some young ones present this time around.”
“Think the Captain can take him? His arms are bigger than Redfield’s calves!” Umber hissed. Becca just giggled at him.
“Watch and learn. His sleeves are that loose for a reason.”
They did watch. And they did learn quickly. At the hostess’ signal, they grasped hands and the battle began. For a few seconds, the strongman seemed to have the edge with the sheer ferocity and power as he jerked his arm in an attempt to slam Chris’ fist to the tabletop quickly. Chris’ arm wavered for a moment, hearing the sharp intake of breath from his squad before he fought back. Flexing, bicep filling that loose sleeve until it strained the fabric, he proceeded to steadily drive their hands the opposite way, slamming the strongman’s fist to the table. Chuckling and shaking his arm out, he grabbed Chris’ arm and held it up in victory.
“Same time next year? You’ve gotta text me your rep numbers and routine. Victory belongs to this party. Seats and a round of drinks for these travelers!” He announced loudly, getting some cheers from the patrons already seated in the tavern and onlookers.
“Will do.” He chuckled.
The hostess led them into the patio and seated them, offering menus.
“Your serving wench will arrive shortly. Enjoy your stay, Travelers.” She bustled off back to greet the next party in line.
Everyone looked over the menus except Chris and Claire. A few minutes later, a serving wench approached, and the first thing that anyone noticed was the ample bust that seemed to be burgeoning from the top of her corset. Not too much to be considered obscene, but more than enough to catch attention far before she could speak to take their order. Chris grinned mischievously as he looked over, seeing the Wolves staring but trying to play it cool.
“Lovely breasts, Milady.” He complimented with a wink, getting a round of horrified noises from around the table at first. Bright laughter rolled out of the woman.
“Thank ye! I heard this was the Champion’s Party. Strewth! What a handsome Champion we are graced with this eve. What beverages may I bring to relieve the thirst of such a hard-traveled group?” She plopped onto his thigh with a pen and order pad, his hand coming to rest on her hip to keep her from slipping off his lap.
Hearing the soft accent before looking up to the husky-blue eyes and smiling face, it clicked in the HWS’ brains that this was L. L was their serving wench. And their Captain was complimenting her breasts in public for fun.
After brains were fully rebooted and Claire smacked Chris in the arm for his comment, they put their orders in for food and drink. L resumed her duties and put the orders in before returning with drinks. From there the evening seemed to pass quickly, with lots of laughter and jokes being traded, and the Wolves were treated to several stories from the S.T.A.R.S. days and Claire’s time in college before Raccoon City events. It didn’t go unnoticed that Claire shoved what she couldn’t eat onto her brother’s plate, as did Jill and Rebecca when the portions proved too hefty.
Two hours and a round of dessert later, it was time to settle the bill and go, as the tavern was closing early that night due to running out of the bulk of the menu items. The Wolves were ready to have the bill split to cover their portions when Jill spoke up.
“Nope, it’s our treat tonight. Thank you for joining us, it’s been great to have you along for the fun.”
After the bill was paid and leftovers were collected, they wandered slowly towards the parking lot. Not missing the double lip-lock L slapped on Redfield before they left the tavern either. Saying goodbye, it was a quiet but thoughtful commute for the Squad as they made their way back home. Having learned several things about their Captain, it had been a treat to see the human side of him in the relaxed setting.
He was a Ren Faire geek, raised his baby sister from an age far younger than he ever should have had to, will flirt gratuitously when given the opportunity to, and is not opposed to public displays of affection when the mood strikes him. Also, can kick a strongman’s ass from here to Sunday, enjoys shopping periodically, and is very generous with those taken under his wing.
Very human indeed, not just a grumpy Alpha after all.