In Angel's Clothing-Resident Evil 2

Chapter 3

The cop ran faster than you expected him to, pushing against the small horde of undead that tried to grab you with horrid, crooked fingers. While he held on to your wrist, it made it much easier to follow his frantic pace, but you were positive it wasn't going to last for very long. You weren't sure where he was going, but he was the only person you could really trust.

He turned left around the nearest corner, coming across a makeshift barricade of sheet metal stands to keep the undead out from somewhere on the streets. The bright, flashing sign of a gun shop sparked his attention in the distance, gesturing with his head while giving an additional tug of your wrist. "This way!" He pressed onwards.

Their were much less undead lingering in the area, only one or two heads turning to take notice and awkwardly turn towards your direction. What concerned you the most, especially for the cop you were with, was the sight of one or two police officers staggering nearby, their shining steel badges sprinkled in blood from whatever fight they had lost.

Grabbing the door and yanking it open, he quickly ushered you inside first before closing the door behind him, quickly looking outside towards the minor undead crowds. Why was the door not even locked? Do the undead not know the difference between a 'push' or 'pull' door?

You brought your hand to your chest, breathing rather heavily from the running. The cool air of the store did little to settle your nerves, but it surely smelled a lot better than the decaying corpses outside.

"Freeze!" A gun clicked, forcing the cop to look away from the door towards a large man pointing  a loaded sawed off shotgun to you and him. The look in his eye was wild, his forearms covered in various angry scratches and faint blood splatters. You focused on a set of bandages on his upper right arm while you held up one of your hands, praying to whoever listened that it was any other kind of wound than a bite wound. You only had the movies you've seen to rely on if this was that kind of apocalypse.

"Hey, Don't shoot! We're both human!" The cop began to speak, holding up his free hand towards the assuming shop owner. That's when you noticed your hand was still locked tightly with his. His hand was much bigger compared to yours, making your sweaty, blushed face feel more hotter than before. You felt as if you had just finished an intense mile run session, Which you sort of already did.

You looked at the cop's face out from the corner of your eye, seeing a similar faint red flush over his cheeks, most likely from the running as well as wherever he had come from before the incident.

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 (Y/N).

The man never took his gaze off the two of you, looking back and forth between you two to look for any telltale signs of infection. You both looked completely sane, and no bite marks. Clearly, you were with a cop, so he had to just believe you two were completely sane. His brow relaxed, slowly lowering the gun and setting it down on the glass counter he stood behind. Both of you let out a breath of relief you didn't know you both held in, your shoulders slightly slumping.

"Sorry about that!" The man walked away from the counter and towards you, reasonably keeping within easy reach of his gun. "I thought you were one of them. This is the first time I've seen a cop that wasn't one of those things."

"Yeah, well maybe you should look your doors before waving that gun around, yeah?"

The cop responded, gently leading you aside as he walked over to let the man quickly head towards the door, watching him lock it and test it to be certain. "What's going on in this town?" The cop asked, seeing the shop owner turn to look at him.