Dead Rising 2 Clothes Novels & Stories

When Rashida and I approached the table, they stopped their conversation and looked at me; I know they smelled me coming way before we got to them. "You asked for a younger thrall, Jeffery?" Rashida said to one of the vampires—an alabaster-skinned man whose eyes were a fluorescent gray. Out of everyone in the Jubilee, him along with the rest of his pale comrades were the only ones not following the dress code. They wore all black, the women wearing red or dark blue corsets that matched the colors of the spiked-chokers on their necks. The men (including Jeffery) wore black-vested tops; I saw the cloaks hanging on their backs. It reminded me of the books I read, seeing how they were dressed. W

He looked ready to strike me if I moved slightly. If the author thought that I would behave after dying twice, he was so right. I wasn't the best actress, but I could try to act weak and miserable. Maybe he would pity me if he saw a helpless woman. I shrunk my shoulders and lowered my head. Then, I realized that something wasn't right. I was wearing a blue and silver dress. "..." Did she steal my clothes? "Doesn't she look like a Mara?" A soldier questioned. "But all of them are dead." The second soldier scolded him, "You saw. We looked for the survivors. There were none. All the bodies were burned. There have been two already."

But right now they had other things to worry about. She nodded her head. "Agreed." Reluctantly he stood up and held out his hand to her. "I'm not happy about this but okay. Let's find something to put on and go find Killian." Dan Killian was right about keeping a fully stocked wardrobe in every size. Both Rachel and Gabe were able to find jeans and shirts, even underwear, to fit them. Gabe dressed in his usual black, while Rachel found navy jeans and a dark blue pullover top. Luckily her shoes were none the worse for the wear. The clothes she'd pulled on at home still reeked with the scent of sex. She'd either have to find a way to wash them or throw them out.

He slowly stalked towards me, his eyes fixed on my cowering form. "Put this on," He said, throwing some clothes on the bed before leaving the room again. It was a dress, a girl's dress, Reilly growled at the thought of whose dress it was. But that's none of my business, so I quickly threw it on, happy at finally having some coverage after so long, The dress was white with frills and deep blue flower patterns, so pretty, much prettier than the grey uniform of the orphanage. I wiped my tears off and sat there waiting in silence not knowing what would happen next.

I don't want to ruin the night. As to what that anonymous guy instructed in the letter. I wore my navy blue tube dress with a pretty necklace that has a V pendant on it. I also covered my bruises with concealers and I finished about almost an hour covering it all up because its all over my body now and it even got bigger than before. If this was normal, I would've looked like a battered daughter because of the bruises I have in my body. Thankfully that's not the case. "Hey, are you nervous?" I heard Mal asking me. I was thinking too much I didn't even notice we'd arrived at the grand theatre.

“We can start with the Den. Check in on everyone. Make sure the pack’s still getting along. And I want eyes on the wounded.” I nodded. That made sense. Routine helped. Purpose helped more. I crossed the room and crouched in front of the suitcase Loria had lent me. Flipping it open, I stared at the pile of human clothing with a mix of suspicion and disdain. My fingers pinched a thin, strappy thing made of some silky nonsense. “Ridiculous human clothing,” I muttered, digging deeper. Finally, I pulled out a soft, cotton dress. It was plain, a pale green color, and didn’t have any zippers or tiny metal fastenings designed to trap a wolf’s fingers.

“What's the dress code for the underground villain's den? Lace? Leather? Or something that says ‘Don’t mess with me, I bite?’ I leaned back on my elbows, enjoying the view of the sheet slipping off her fingers. “You could wear a trash bag and still get stared at, Kotoyonk.” “Tempting. Less laundry for me to worry about,” she quipped. I followed her into the walk-in closet, plucking a black twist front ruched cutout dress from one of the hangers and handing it to her. “This. It says ‘try me and die.’” She held it up with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. That's a strong review, you should work in fashion.”

There was no room for me in this family, and even the maids treated me like I was a piece of trash. The pain in my stomach was making me lose control of my emotions. My hands trembled as I swallowed some painkillers with water. After a while, the discomfort faded somewhat. I changed my clothes and put on some light makeup, wanting to look a bit more spirited. My first stop was a funeral supply store. Since I only had one day left, I couldn't get a custom-made urn, so I picked my favorite pattern from the ones available. This urn would be my home in the future.

Taking a moment to eye the dress I was wearing, it's black silk sleeves fell from my shoulders, a thin strip of red lace barely covered my cleveage which then blended into an exposed black corset with bright red stitching, with the silk shirt pooling around me on the floor. I normally would have found this type of dress provocative, befitting of a harlot but now... I liked it. It fit then new me. And new I was. "To answer your question, yes, I did change your clothes. It had to be done after the execution, they buried you." At his words my heart beat skyrocketed. Did that mean he dug me up? "Oh... uhm, thanks?" I answered wearily. It suddenly felt very real, people I'd know my entire life, w

The bag of clothes he’d gotten for me was still carefully sitting on the vanity. I walked over to it and took out the clothes to choose which of them would be the best to murder someone in. One of the black dresses caught my eye. I held it up to get a full view of it. One look and I decided it was the perfect dress for the night, a slit dress with an exposed back. The bodice was nothing but gold chains and I was sure it wouldn’t do a good enough job of covering my 40D cup breasts. I guess it wasn’t a bad idea for a man to die with his eyes firmly on my nipples.