AH collections

Soul buddies

Jeremwood
Word count: 4009
Chapters: 1

Soul powers were wack. That's what Jeremy had always thought. Sure they can be pretty useful, but most people will never know theirs, locked behind the barrier of finding your soulmate, and well, most people never found their soulmates. It was a fact that only about ten percent of the population found their soulmates. The majority if the human race accepted this, went on with their lives, found love by themselves, and lived. Jeremy Dooley was one of these people, living his life, all notions of finding his mystical other half purged from his mind. Besides he was just a nobody in an underground fighting ring just to get enough money to survive, who'd want a soulmate like him?

Though all things had to come to an end, including Jeremy's tenure as an underground fighter, but honestly it was for the better. The bostonite had received a call, a call from a number in Los Santos. At first Jeremy had been hesitant to answer, but in the end he did, only to be greeted by an excitable Brit, asking if he was available for an interview to join the fakes on friday at noon. It was a tuesday afternoon, so Jeremy did the impulsive thing (and well he wasn't raised to be rude) and said yes. After giving him a date and time the brit hung up. Not once did he give a name or ask for Jeremy's.

Immediately after the call Jeremy packed his things, everything fitting in two suitcases, and got a one way ticket to the city of crime. Jeremy was familiar with the name Fakes, a common nickname for the Fake AH Crew, the crew that practically ran the city. And they called him. Surely it was a wrong number, but Jeremy had to take this opportunity, it was a chance to better himself, to do something other than fight against the same people over and over again. That was as long as they didn't realize their mistake.

The days passed quickly and soon Jeremy was on a flight to Los Santos, taking a flight on Thursday and setting up in a cheap motel. He was excited, his heart hammering inside his chest. He felt like he was supposed to do this, he was given a chance to be something more, to do something fun, be a part of something greater. It was exhilarating. The bostonite set out an outfit for tomorrow, and just crashed after setting his alarm. His alarm went off at 10 o'clock, giving him an hour and a half to get ready and go. The first he did was jump in the shower and wash off. He wanted to make sure he looked presentable, that he made a good first impression.

The excitement he felt from yesterday was now replaced with anxiety and dread. What if they realized their mistake? What if they decided that they didn't need him for whatever they called him for? What if they just straight up killed him? He wanted to go back to Boston, pretend he never got a call from the fakes, go back to mindlessly beating people up for others entertainment. But he couldn't. He had said he'd be there and his momma didn't raise no liar, didn't raise a quitter. So he threw on his clothes (white pants, orange top, and purple suit coat with a cowboy hat. It was the nicest things he owned) and left.

He followed his phones directions to a small cafe. Jeremy ordered a bagel and sat down with it, nibbling on it as he waited. It was still ten minutes before the meeting and Jeremy could feel that his nerves were fried. He just wanted to get this done, find out if he flew across the country for no reason or not. He looked up as he heard the bell ring, watching two people walk in. It was immediately recognizable who they were, even for the bostonite. It was one Geoff Ramsey, the kingpin of the Fakes, and his Golden Boi, resident hacker for the crew. Jeremy felt his heart beating faster, as he watched them. He saw them look over and he gave them a short wave, prompting the duo to walk over and take a seat.

"You're the one Gavin called?" Geoff asked as he looked over Jeremy.

"Yes sir. Rimmy Tim at your service." He responded. He hadn't really given thought to what to call himself, just choosing the name on the spot.