Chris Redfield

Racing has always been your calling. You knew it was your thing and were ready to devote your whole life to it. Your choice was influenced not only by your personal interests, but also by your family. Your father, who told you about cars from an early age, instilled in you a love of speed, teaching you to drive.

Today's race, unfortunately, was not crowned with success. At the most inopportune moment, when you felt that control over the car was becoming increasingly shaky, you were cut off on the road. As a result, you did not have time to react and crashed into a pole.

Luckily, help came in the form of a man who hooked your damaged car and drove to the nearest auto center. The car was parked in a garage, from which a tall man in overalls came out and there was a badge hanging on it, where it was written Chris. On his hands were dirty gloves, and his gaze was concentrated. He quickly inspected the car, and then set to work, carefully squatting down by its hood.

You, leaning your whole body against the large pedestals nearby, watched his actions. While he was working, Chris decided to ask:

"Has your car been serviced lately?" he asked, without looking up from his work.