In Angel's Clothing-Resident Evil 2

Chapter 3

(Revised 08/31/24)

The cop turned left around the nearest corner in between some buildings, coming across a hastily built, makeshift barricade of sheet metal and wooden stands to keep the undead out. The possibility of safe zones was highly unlikely from what he's seen so far.

Breaking through towards the next street, with you in clutched tow, the bright, flashing sign of a gun shop sparked his attention from the distance, taking an immediate liking to the barred up windows and lack of roamers along the street.

"C'mon, this way," the cop quickly released hold on you after some time, but for fairness sake, you stuck as close to him as possible.

While the lack of roamers appearing nearby any minute was possible, you couldn't help but make out a staggering body around a long since crashed police car. You could only imagine the severity of his injuries that lead towards his death, old blood stained along his steel badge from the battle he must've lost.

"Quickly," The cop ahead of you guided you inside after yanking the door open, wincing at the shrill alarm that welcomed a guest entering throughout the small shop. That sounds couldn't have happened at a worst time, possibly alerting more undead towards your location.

Not to mention the fact that the door wasn't locked, like he somewhat expected it to be.

You brought your hand to your chest, breathing heavily from all the running as the cop shut the door behind you. The cool air of the store did little to settle your nerves, shooting a chill down your spine from cooling the sweat on your skin, but it surely smelled a lot better than the decaying corpses outside.

"Freeze!"

A loud gun clicked, forcing the cop to look away from the door towards a large, heavy set man pointing a loaded shotgun towards the both of you.

The look in his exhausted eyes was wild, his forearms covered in various angry scratches and faint blood splatters. Without pause, the cop stepped in front of you, grasping hold of your wrist as put himself in front of you again for your own safety.

"Hey, Don't shoot!" The cop began to speak, holding up his free hand towards the assuming shop owner.

The older man wasn't having it, keeping his aim towards the cop as he inspected the pair of you. Following suit, you reached up your own hand, only to realize your other hand had locked tightly in his.

What a sight this must've been to the shop owner, practically holding hands with sweaty, your damp face surely flushed from all the running.

The cop's face out held a similar faint red flush over his cheeks, though you were sure he hadn't put this silly pieces together in his mind like you have. Or, he probably did already.

Maybe he realizes we look like a sweaty couple, holding hands like this in front of a man at gunpoint. Such a great way to die, huh?

"Hands." The man orders, sparking a little confusion at first.

"Hands!!" He barks again, forcing your joined hands to slip free and raise in the air, also displaying your guns to appease him.

The man never took his gaze off the two of you, looking back and forth for any telltale signs of infection. No visible wounds, no bite marks, no strange bulging veins or sickly colored skin. Thankfully, this appeased him, lowering his gun only slightly.

"You aren't one of them, right?" He questions with caution, the cop instinctively shaking his head.

"We're not. Honest."

"Good ... good," the shopowner murmurs, lowering his gun entirely to your absolute relief. Shoulders slowly slumping along with your hands, you remain quiet as the man walked from behind the counter, keeping his weapon in hands.