Love From The Other Side ☆ Leon S Kennedy X Reader

28 ☆ Just you?

"Talk!" I yell, my MAG pistol pressing into the side of his head as I wrap my legs around him tighter. He's completely trapped. This 5'7 south Asian English man between my legs finally stops squirming, glancing up at me. I warn him once more. "One shot and your brain is going to be kissing the pavement."

His eyes widen even more, and he grunts as he tries to glance up at his dead friend. A tall, brunette man, suddenly not so strong and bulky as his body lies lifeless against the grass beside the pavement.

"Fine, damn it! What do you wanna know?" He yelps, my arm pressing harder against the arm lock I've forced him into.

"What do you know about the people who gave you the drugs? What is it, crystal meth?" I ask, the light of the streetlamp illuminating our bodies against the soft rain that's just beginning to fall.

"Yeah, it's meth, damn it. All this for some meth." He scowls, before I interrupt him.

"Actually, you three killed over a dozen of our police force. But continue, and answer the question." I demand, forcing my gun into his skin with a harder force.

He flinches. "It was a girl! A British girl in Brighton!" I watch his face drop as he realises what he's done.

"Good, that's what I wanted to hear. Calm down, I won't hurt you. Just tell me what you know." I reassure him, contemplating if I should kill him or throw him in a jail cell.

"Fine. She was with a black and white dog. A big one, looked like one of those farm ones. Sheep dog, I think. And she was young; probably around mid-twenties. A black mullet, a few facial piercings, and she was pretty damn fine. She doesn't look like she'd be a dealer," He mumbles, practically spilling out each and every detail he picked up on.

"She was also very... punkish. She had one of them jackets with the bands on them, and the, uh, patches, they were mostly handmade, and you can tell. But they're detailed, and if she made them herself then she's gotta be a pretty good damn artist."

Huh. Reminds me of someone.

"Is that it? Nobody else?" I ask, slightly lost in thought.

"Yeah, nobody else I know of. You'll have to find her to ask."

I think for a moment. "Do you know her name?"

"No, what the hell? Are you new to the drug dealing business or something? Nobody gives names."

I nod, clicking the handcuffs into place around his wrists and tossing him to the feet of the policemen nearby. They can deal with him. Off to Brighton I go, I guess. I should get there by the 20th, around midday. Maybe earlier if I'm lucky.

'Lucky'.

If I'm 'lucky' the helicoper will crash and I won't have to deal with this shit anymore.

Without looking back, I climb back into the helicopter and lean forwards, making direct eye contact with the pilot.

"Brighton. East Sussex."

And with that, we're off. The ride is awfully quiet, and I'm absolutely not complaining. I get some rest foe a while, my eyes fluttering open every so often. I watch the sky gradually get darker and darker, until the stars twinkle at me. I can't decide if they're taunting me, or trying to lull me to sleep.

Although, the hours of calm silence is interrupted by the crackle of his radio... or walkie-talkie. I honestly can't be bothered to open my eyes to check.

"This is Bromley London Police Station. Is this Captain Tyler Durman? Over."

Yep, it's a walkie-talkie. He sighs, picking it up and speaking. "Yes, this is Tyler. Is something wrong? Over."

Crackle... "Kylie wants to talk to you. Over."

He chuckles and tilts his head in my direction for a moment. "That's my wife. Sorry, I hope you don't mind this..."

I nod. "Of course not."

"Tyler? Over."

He smiles and presses the button on his device once again.

"Yes, honey? What's wrong, it's still early morning. Over. "

Damn, early morning... so I don't have much time left to rest.

"Babe, there's a dog at the station! It got dropped off just now, and it's so cute! Over."

He lets out a soft chuckle. "Yeah? Why? Give me some context. Over."

"Timmy took a girl to the hospital for a gunshot wound to her leg. We're looking after her dog. It's a black and white border-collie! Over!"

I freeze for a moment. "We need to go there." I glance over to him. "Change the route, we need to go to Bromley."

He belly laughs, absolutely cracking up at that. "You don't look like a sucker for animals, Kennedy."

"What!?" I exclaim. "I'm not going for the damn dog. It's got the same description as the person's dog I'm trying to find. Ask if she knows anything about the owner."

At my command, he gulps and speaks into it. "Babe? Do you know anything about the dogs owner? Over."

A few moments pass, and then... "No, not really. I saw a glimpse of her; she's short and alternative. Over."

I lean back in my chair, relieved. "I think that's her. We're going there."

He shrugs. "Alright, boss! Whatever you say."

The route isn't really changed at all; we just land about twenty minutes away. As we land, I recall the conversation and decide whether or not to find her at the police station or the hospital.

I decide to wait at the reception of the police station for her.

It's now 8am. It's been three hours since they've dropped off the dog, and I don't think they should be too long now. After all, she was with a cop.