Cold steel chilled his bones. This was it. Levi held the weapon to his own forehead. The army trained grip on the pistol was replaced with trembling weakness as he looked down the barrel. The trigger slightly bumped up and down as his sweaty thumb slide on the smooth metal. Ali was his name; he had a mother, a father, two sisters and a Kalashkinov AK47. The soldier in him held no heisitation in shooting down the the boy who was young enough to be his own son. That was 5 years ago today, now heisitation was the only thing keeping him alive. A long owed debt had to be paid, Levi felt the boy him to the next world. “Not like this…” an unknown consciousness whispered. He threw the gun at the wall and walked out the door. Levi groaned as he tore the insignia off that he had put so much faith in. The debt would be paid… but not like this.


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