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Cherry Soft
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Alright, I'd better make sure he can't come back to haunt us. I unload the rest of my magazine into him. He's not going to get up.
>How in the fuck did two soldiers of fortune become so crazily loyal to each other, or at least Omi to you?
Okay, story time!
When I was a lot younger, and new to this kind of job, Omi was just a street urchin. Omi lived in the alleyway that I passed through most days. He'd politely say hello every day, and often I would bring him something to eat in the afternoon, then I'd sit with him and talk for half an hour or whatever. I felt terrible for him.
Nomally I'd do work for smaller businesses, or gangs or whatever. You know, less ambitious, but still ugly work. It didn't pay a huge amount, but because I was good at it, I got a fair amount of jobs. I was becoming better known. Naturally, some employers tasks conflicted with the interests of others.
Anyway, one day I was attacked. The leaders of a minor gang had, in their meth-headed wisdom, decided that I was causing too many problems for them, by killing X or blowing up Y. They confronted me in this alleyway about a block from where Omi lived. There were about four or five of these gang members, armed with bats and knives. They were going to kill me. I didn't have my weapons by my side, and I was unprepared. It was foolish of me to have not forseen it.
But before they could harm me, they were gunned down. All but one, who dropped his weapon and ran screaming. And out from the alley came this kid, with a machine pistol in his hands. It was Omi. I won't ever forget that sight. That was the first time he saved my life. He told me that the small acts of kindness I showed to him meant a lot. When he saw I was in trouble, he had to help. I worried the gang might have come back for him, so I let him stay in my apartment until things blew over.
Of course, Omi already knew about my line of work. Many people from that area did. One day, he asked me if he could tag along 'unofficially.' I allowed it, and it was a good decision, so I let him tag along more often. At the end of each mission, I would give him a small portion of the pay. It was worth it for the backup and extra firepower. Plus, Omi had a proper place to stay, and money. For this, we were grateful for each other's company.
This went on for about two years, until Omi finally got a real contract from a security company. It allowed him to afford a place of his own. Now we both work for the same company, and Omi sees me as the reason that he got out of that alleyway and into a new life. And if it weren't for Omi, I'd be dead.
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