Dead Rising 2 Clothes Novels & Stories

My hands had stiffened in mid-air while clutching the pieces of the scarf, but I'd still taken them with me. As Eugene sobbed inside my room, Carl and Gary leaned against the doorframe and looked in. This seemed to be their first time seeing my living conditions—the attic was dark and cramped. Carl was stunned. He'd never stepped foot in here before. He approached my closet, which was small and old. It was enough to contain all the clothes I needed for every weather.

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.

The live chat was losing its mind, frustrated beyond belief. 【Lady, open your damn eyes! That’s one of the bosses from the House of Death! That “wet red dress” isn’t wet!! It’s soaked in the blood of her victims!】 【And that smell of blood? It’s not because she’s hurt. It’s because her dress is covered in pieces of the players she’s killed.】 【Just wait till the other one gets home. She’s a goner for sure.】 Unfortunately, I couldn’t see any of that. Still holding the little girl in my arms, I walked into the apartment and gently took off her red dress. From her pretty pink princess room, I found a clean white one and helped her put it on.

I stared at the clothes for a long moment until when I recalled the Alpha's words. My death was pending. The thought made my stomach twist. I sank down onto the edge of the bed, the thin mattress creaking under my weight. The bathroom door creaked open behind me. I turned slightly as the third girl stepped out, wiping her hands on a towel. She’d changed into something far flashier, a sparkling silver dress that clung to her figure, her lips painted blood-red. Her eyes met mine in the mirror’s reflection before she spoke.

She opened the closet to find several designer dresses that she knew very well, they were expensive dresses, as well as shoes, underwear, and silk sets for sleeping. Amber felt a chill run down her spine. She didn't want to wear those clothes, something told her they belonged to her employer's deceased wife, and her mother always told her. "The clothes of the dead are not given away or used because the dead then frighten them." However, she hated sleeping in clothes, and at the same time she hated sleeping naked, so, ignoring her mother's words, she took out a red wine silk outfit from the closet. It was short, the shorts could barely cover half of her buttocks, and the blouse was so fresh t

I might as well have died at sea. My eyes find a pile of clothes and I walk over to them, picking them up. A soft white t-shirt, simple cotton panties, a bra and jeans with socks. I pull on the clothes, finding that the jeans are a little tight and the T-shirt a little too loose, falling to my thighs. I pull it up and tuck it into my pants before putting on my socks. After running my fingers through my hair and drying it as best I can with a towel, I exit the bathroom and head downstairs to see Saffron sitting on the sofa with Alpha Ragnar on the other side, but Trey is nowhere to be seen. Ragnar looks up as one of the stairwells creaks and I hurry to the last step. Saffron waves at me and I

The sun rose up, me not knowing what to do with myself but better do as told and not cause a scene yet I stayed prepared for anything. I went to take a shower, coming back to my closet not knowing what to wear. What do you wear after a horrifying funeral of over five hundred people? Black would be fitting but not too extravagant. I wore a long-sleeved dress that went down near my ankles. It was body hugging with a turtle neck. As much as the sun was up, the air was moist and cool. I pulled my hair back, tying it in a high pony tail. Nothing was done to the face, just natural. I slipped on some flat pumps then walked back to sit on the bed. The windows were opened to let in some fresh air an

“Ooh, fancy! Can I wear explosives?” “No,” Ace and Esther said in unison. I stood, my chair scraping. “I’ll need a dress. Something that screams ‘shoot me, I’m vulnerable.’” Ace’s jaw twitched. “Or something bulletproof.” “Bulletproof itchy,” Sky offered. “Trust me.” Esther sighed. “I’ll handle the wardrobe. You handle not dying.” --- The dress was black, backless, and lined with Kevlar. Valerie zipped me up, her reflection smirking in the mirror. “If you die, can I have your shoes?”

3:17 ticks to 3:18, and I'm already upright, legs already over the mattress edge, bare feet already on the cold floor. This is insane. Normal people don't do this. Employed people don't do this. This is a horror film setup. This is a headline: Temp Found Dead, Billionaire's Penthouse, Film at Eleven. I'm standing. I'm in the closet. I'm yanking out the only decent dress I still own—black, basic, clearance-rack Somerset Collection from three years ago, back when I still believed I'd finish the degree and land the career and become a woman who needed nice dresses.

That greedy bastard is still too focused on looting, completely oblivious to what's going on over here. He leaned over and took another look inside, practically drooling at the sight of all the glittering gems and jewelry. Yet, right in the center of all that treasure was a mummified corpse. The dead guy was dressed in some kind of old-timey official uniform. Darius was not exactly a scholar—he barely finished grade school. However, even he could tell that outfit was something from the Crimson Dynasty or whatever era those dramas always show. It was a robe embroidered with ornate gold patterns, and it even had a matching hat.