Love From The Other Side ☆ Leon S Kennedy X Reader

5 ☆ Walking Contradictions

I groggily force my exhausted eyes open, pushing off the extra layer of clothing covering my legs. A jacket? I rub my face, glancing down at the small black smudge on my already-crimson palms. I groan frustratedly. I forgot I had eyeliner on.

I shake my head disapprovingly and stand up, giving my anemia a moment to marinate before walking down the stairs. I pause as I notice the raging fire in the middle of the room.

Right. He's gone and turned the bodies into a bonfire.

A small, leather accessory catches my eye. I pick it up and hold it out infront of me, admiring it for a moment. It's a gun holster, I think. I clip it ontop of my studded belt, and it fits perfectly. Sweet.

I hear soft footsteps behind me, causing my head to snap around immediately.

Lo and behold... a cop.

I squint my eyes stubbornly.

"Who are-" I pause. "Martin!?" I exclaim.

"Y/N! You're... certainly dressed differently from when I'd last seen you." He acknowledges, silently judging me as he crosses his arms.

I shrug. "Am I?"

"Certainly. Very much so."

I just nod non-chalantly, changing the subject. My attire still makes it relatively easy to make an educated guess at what I am, despite being covered head to toe in blood. A punk.
"Are you hurt? What's that?" I point at a soggy, red stain on his side.

He nods shamefully.

I hear a small rattle, and turn to the shutter. I notice the boy from earlier struggling to escape through the gap. Me and Martin collectively rush over to pull him out. I grab his left hand while Martin grabs his right, sliding him right out.

He almost flies into me, knocking me to the floor, but I swerve out of the way and he crashes face-first into the hard surface.

Phew, he almost fell ontop of me!

I crouch down to see what he was running from, noticing a lot of feet. Smelly feet; like, rotting flesh. Yeah, I didn't expect much different.

"Disgusting..." I mutter, my eyebrows furrowed. I let out a squeal as I involuntarily make eye contact with a pair of empty eye sockets. I scramble backwards with a whine, abruptly standing up.

I perk up at the sound of voices.

"So, you're Leon?" Martin interrogates. "The rookie cop? God, what an interesting first day..."

I turn around slowly.

'Leon' turns to me.

"You're a cop."
"And you're a punk."

We stare eachother down for a moment. I stand up slowly, looking up directly into his soul as I rise to my full height of a whopping five foot nothing.

I furrow my eyebrows.

"You're a cop." I say, cautiously.

"Is there a problem?" He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow.

"I hate cops." I grit my teeth. "The lot of them."

"Hey, I'm a cop! You seem to be just fine with Martin." He contradicts my words and I huff.

"That's different! Even Caesar told me that cops are pigs, and not to trust them. I then learnt it the hard way. But Martin... he taught me how to cook mashed potato. The Christmas way."

Leon rolls his eyes half-heartedly.
"I don't see punks often, but when I do, they look like they want my guts for breakfast. Every time."

"Probably because you're a cop. The amount of times I've gotten chased by you fuckers..." I mumble.

"I mean, I imagine there was a reason for it." He rubs the back of his head awkwardly.

I just grunt and move on.

"Yeah, whatever. How are we getting out of here? What did you find in that other room, Leonardo?" I bite my bottom lip and shove my hands in my pockets.

"What did you just call me?" He scrunches his face, mildly bamboozled. He brushes it off and shakes his head.
"I found a key. Under a dildo. And some supplies, but that's about it."

"Go find out where the key goes. Come find me when you've got it, I'm just gonna check up on Martin..." I look around, spotting him sat where I was passed out earlier.

"So, you're calling the shots here, are you?" He mumbles under his breath. Me and Leon split ways as I jog over to the injured, middle aged man.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" I glance down at the large injury on his side. He's bandaged it up himself. "I could've done that..."

"It's okay, sweetheart." He reassures me, weakly. It hurts a little, his tone.
"I'm perfectly capable."

There's about a minute of silence between us. I shake my head, getting interrupted by the blonde cop sprinting back over to us. At least there's conversation now.

"Hey, I found the door!" He boasts, grinning lopsidedly, clearly proud of himself. He's wearing a police uniform now, R.P.D engraved into the layering on his chest. What is that, a bulletproof vest? Beats me. I miss his normal clothes.

"Well done, boy... now, I need you two kids to listen to me." He speaks sternly, resting his hands on the seat in order to keep his balance.

Leon and I exchange glances, before turning to him and nodding.

"No matter what you do, a zombie is a zombie. Don't be fooled by age, clothes, uniform. That was my mistake."

"I think the cop uniform would make it easier." I mumble.

"Well it doesn't." Retorts Martin, bluntly.

I don't respond, looking around a little awkwardly. The man sighs, grazing his slim, brown fingers across his freshly applied bandage.

"Perhaps you should look around. Maybe you'll find something useful. And for the love of God, you two need to get along. I'm looking at you specifically, Y/N. We are not in a situation where we have time to argue. Accept your differences." He crosses his arms sternly, glaring at the two of us.

The blonde cop sighs, and rummages around his pocket for something. He pulls out a familiar necklace, placing it in my hand gently. I look down at it, just staring without a word.

When we were younger, we went on a total of one vacation out of the country. We went to visit our father's hometown in Asia to meet our grandparent's. The lucky bastard found a perfectly sized shark tooth at the beach, drilling a hole through it and turning it into a necklace.

I grip it tightly, reminiscing in the memory for a moment with my eyes clenched shut. I let free a shaky breath, before looking up at him with an unreadable expression.

"Thank you." My tone is a little raspy as I'm holding back a breakdown, but I gulp and move on. I carefully clip the necklace around my neck. "...We should look around."

He nods unenthusiatically. "We should, probably, yes."

As said, Leon and I use the tiny key he found from the other room, trying multiple doors in the West Wing until we open the correct one. It's stiff, but it clicked when the key turned so he rams his body into it until it eventually barges open.

I flash my own torch around the room cautiously before creeping inside, and stopping at the offices.

"Welcome Leon?" I whisper, reading a small, battered banner that's danging from the ceiling. Each letter is it's own little circle, and it's split between a dirty, grey toned white and blue.

His gaze follows my flashlight, his eyes widening at the sight.

I believe I remember Martin mentioning how it was the blondie's first day today, and I'd assume that this was set up by the other police officers in advance of his arrival.

I spot a few party horns on the side, placing one inbetween my lips and blowing on it. I make the both of us jump with the loud 'doot', instantaneously lobbing it back into the pile and moving on.

We don't really speak at all; there's nothing to say, and we both have a small disliking towards eachother. I mean, who even is this guy to judge me for being a punk, huh? I can read his expression just fine.