Role: Protagonist
Omari is twenty-three—light, wiry, and stronger than he looks. He walks with his chest high, pride carved into his bones by generations who refused to bow. His face says don’t fuck with me, but underneath it lives a boy who loves to laugh, compete, and tell stories.
He lived in Atlanta and died there, driving home with his dog when an officer stopped him. He never believed in justice; America taught him the dream of prosperity but practiced oppression. His first question after death is simple—‘what’s next?’—because he’s the kind of man who tries to solve everything if given the time and tools. That impulse is his flaw: believing the solution must come from him.
Omari starts convinced he has no agency to change the world. His proof of life is presence—‘if nobody asks, nobody cares.’ Over time he learns to let others in, to trust that some answers belong to someone else. The hardest truth he accepts is that he doesn’t have to know everything to lead.
Osseum obeys him more easily than anyone. He remembers his life, and that memory gives him precision. His clarity of thought shapes the metal; his turmoil distorts it. He favors a windbreaker, a plain tee, shoulder-length dreadlocks, and gold—the color of will. A tattoo on his left forearm reads ‘I have free will,’ echoing his grandfather’s lesson that he is a free moral agent.
Omari code-switches effortlessly, but when unmasked, he speaks in novels. Silence for him is surrender—a choice to disengage. In the City of Bones he becomes both respected and feared. On the surface world he’s remembered as a martyr, the spark that finally made people move. He doesn’t care to be remembered, only to be understood. His words remind others that agency is theirs to claim.