Disclaimer: As per usual, I don't own Resident Evil. If I did, Piers would still be alive, Claire is in the sixth numbered installment, Chris will have a scene where he shatters a boulder with a single headbutt, Finn is a badass, and Piers would still be alive. Nor do I own Rose. She's property of my lovely foster sister. I do, however, own Crimson Caldwell.

Author's Note: Well, here's the first chapter! I apologize in advance if my current writing isn't up to par with my old ones; it has been a long while since I wrote anything. xD Also, some characters (Chris, specially) are slightly OOC. Don't worry though, as it's only temporary. I'll eventually get the hang of writing the characters and I'm sure it won't take long(I hope xD). Alright, as habit goes, without further ado:

A Family of Five (Sometimes More)

Chapter One: Same Old Umbrella

4:00 am.

It was quiet; everyone was asleep…

Except for one Piers Nivans.

A door flew open, the advent of a flying object—hurtling down the second floor hallway-obnoxious ringing trailing after it like a cape of trumpeting wake-up calls—was immediately followed by unrestrained yelling. Colorful words echoed down the corridor in crisp tones of F's and S's, occasional mentions of 'stupid Umbrella Corporation' thrown in the mix. But it didn't stop there. Heavy footsteps thundered on the wooden floorboards and, not satisfied with simply throwing the alarm clock and almost busting a lung with his shouting, Piers arrived at the clock's ground zero and kicked the device down the stairs, resulting in a cacophony of alarm rings, clinks, clanks, and the poor thing's now-distorted clamoring at the bottom of the steps.

You're probably wondering why the other inhabitants of the house have not been woken up by the racket. Well hold that thought because they have, and Chris Redfield was already well on his way down the hall.

"Goddammit, Piers; it's freaking four in the morning! What the hell do you think you're doing, making a commotion!?"

"Well whoop-de-doo, Chris. Aren't you the genius. I KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS, THANKS TO THAT CURSED FAILURE OF AN ALARM CLOCK."

"Will the two of you please shut up?" a pair of heads turned to the sound of a drowsy female voice that belonged to none other than Crimson. The young woman was standing by her doorway decked in only a plain white shirt many times her size, loosely-braided ebony hair draped over her shoulder, knuckling at her eye with as much energy as a shriveled potato.

"I second that notion." Rose, Crimson's older-by-a-year foster sister chipped in, taking her place beside the younger sibling as she yawned into a cupped hand. She wore a hooded jacket that proved to be too big for her and had her golden-brown hair in a slack ponytail, heavy-lidded green eyes staring—more like glaring, actually—at the two men arguing down the hall.

"I'd listen to them if I were you, boys." It was Claire, her lithe, robe-clad form resting on her and her brother's doorway. "We don't want anything else broken now, do we?" she added in a tone that clearly stated serious business.

Needless to say, everyone was more or less cranky at this time of day, especially when said people have been roused from sleep in such an abrupt manner.

Piers threw his arms in the air out of exasperation. He was having none of this. All he wanted was to go back to the warm, snuggly confines of his bed, was that too much to ask? Really, they should be blaming Umbrella Corporation and its stupid alarm clocks. That company never did anything right. Even when stripped of their former pharmaceutical glory, downgraded to some run-of-the-mill, we-make-random-things establishment, they still—for lack of a better word—SUCK. Somebody ought to teach them that alarm clocks should ring at the time it was set at, not A FREAKING HOUR BEFORE.

The marksman groaned.

"Look, I'm heading back to bed." He began, fingers finding throbbing temples, "If you want to blame somebody, blame Umbrella; they made that infernal piece of shit."

And it seemed everyone was at an agreement in that small lapse of time…

But Chris Redfield thought otherwise.

Having the reputation of being the manly man of the house, he reveled in giving manly lectures and driving points at people's minds on how it is to be a man. And so he made a grab for the only other male in the house. Catching Nivans by the scruff of his shirt, Chris yanked the sleep-deprived sniper so suddenly that the poor young man almost fell backwards. Turning Piers around, he placed both hands on his victim's shoulders and stared at bloodshot eyes under furrowed brows.

Everyone in the immediate radius that wasn't named Chris Redfield mentally killed themselves.

'Dear Lord, not this again. I wanna sleep, for Pete's sake!' It was Piers.

'God, Chris, this isn't the time for this!' Rose.

'Oh I hate you so much right now, bro.' Claire.

'…Can we all just agree in throwing Chris out a window?' Crimson.

"Piers," he started, causing said person to frown, "you have to take responsibility for what you've done! Sure, Umbrella might have manufactured that alarm clock, but you're the one who went around causing a shitstorm and woke all of us up! Don't run away from this! Be a man!" he had a point, of course, but four in the morning wasn't the time to be lecturing people. This earned him a deeper scowl from his subordinate.

"I'll 'be a man' when I get some goddamn sleep!" came the immediate reply, followed by a thud and a sickening crunch. Piers had smashed his forehead against the older man's face, resulting in a string of curses and a broken nose. Smirking and satisfied, he spun on his heel to face the direction of his room and saw Rose give him a thumbs-up gesture while Crimson shook her head in silent mirth.

As for the Redfields, Claire took it upon herself to haul her brother's fainted ass back into their room, a grin on her face as she bid the others sweet dreams.

Doors clicked shut, covers shuffled, and everybody went back to dreamland where one was the best gunman in the world, one was a deadly female cyborg that utilized a number of arms, the other was in a shower with a certain mercenary, and one was the CEO of TerraSave. It was a holiday anyway, so oversleeping was not a problem.

End Notes: I do hope that wasn't too bad or cringe-worthy xD Well, I guess I'll be writing whatever scenario comes to mind and, if you, dear readers, have any bright ideas, don't hesitate to let me know in your reviews. See you all in the next chapter! Crimson-Hybrid is out! :D