Rebirth Online World

Icicle: Mrs. Laur? We’re here to talk about your husband, Mr. Paul Laur. Can we come in?

Mrs. Laur: About my husband? Who are you gentlemen?

Bob: Special senior agent Bob Harett, FBI.

Showing his badge, Bob calmed Mrs. Laur a little.

Mrs. Laur: And you, young man?

Icicle: I wish I could tell you. Unfortunately, it’s classified.

I tried to make a courteous smile.

Mrs. Laur: Well, I guess this is enough. Come in. Oh, and don’t call me Mrs. Laur, Jannett is fine.

…

One hour earlier, inside the warehouse.

Icicle: Now you’ve done it, Marco. You’ve put me in a REALLY bad mood. You know, I didn’t want to do that, but there’s a very peculiar line in your file. It’s classified, of course, but I have access to it. It says “Family”. I wonder what should I do with it… how about…

*I’ll take care of that young wife of yours when you’re gone.*

Marco: Hmph, that’s so lame. Are you sure you’re one of the top dogs?

*You’re right, doing it after you’re gone would only be a natural thing to do, wouldn’t it? I’ll have her raped right here, just so you can hear her lovely screams and moans. Who knows, maybe you’ll pop a boner, fufufu~.*

Marco: RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! I’ll kill you!

…

Although the exterior looked modest, the interior of the house was quite gorgeous.
Varnished wooden floor spread where sight could reach.
Everywhere I looked, whether it were walls, cupboards or chandeliers, it was squeaky clean.
It could be clearly seen that this house has a woman’s touch.

Icicle: Please excuse us, we don’t want to dirty your floor. We’ll take our shoes off right away.

Jannet: There’s no need, please come inside the living room. I’ll make some tea.

I thought it was impolite, so I gestured Bob to take off his shoes as well…
He has already done it before I even mananged to take one of mine off.
That’s what I love about Bob, he’s such a mindful subordinate.

Icicle: Mr. Laur sure has a beatiful wife, doesn’t he, Bob?

Bob: Indeed sir, he does.

Jannet: Now, now, young men, no need to compliment me like that. I’m sure you are pressed for time, so what did that good-for-nothing husband of mine do again?

…again? So he’s a troublemaker, huh.

Icicle: We’re not here because of whatever he has done, madame. The reason we came here in person, is to tell you, that your husband, Paul Laur, has been selected to take our organization’s training.

Jannet: What organization’s? Who are you?

Icicle: You can’t possibly expect me to answer that question, can you, madame? All I can say, is that we work in the shadows, protect the president, other important figures and events and prevent dangers from outside of USA’s soil.
There’s much more, but as I said, it’s classified. I think I have already spoke too much.

Jannet: That man next to you, Bob Harett, showed an FBI badge, why are you trying to conceal your organization’s identity? And what does that have to do with my good-for-nothing husband?

Icicle: We’re not from FBI. That badge is used to avoid unnecessary trouble with policemen and so on. Not many people know about our existence.

Jannet: Black ops organization is trying to recruit my husband? What for? He’s old and not that useful. Isn’t it better to just recruit young men like you?

Jeez, that woman is tough…

Icicle: Not to be rude, but why and who are we choosing is our call, not yours. All that we came here for, is to tell you, madame, that your husband will be away for at least a week. If there’s anything you would like to tell him, please record it on this device. We’re not allowing any phone calls for the duration of the training course.

Jannet: I’m very sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, gentlemen. How are my honey’s chances?

Is she a masochist or something? Mild scolding and Jannet’s changing into an obedient housewife…
Something’s seriously fucked up with these policemen and their life choices.

Icicle: Well, that depends. There are many younger men taking the course, but what matters the most is the mental fortitude. Our agents need to be able to use 100% of their abilities, no matter how bad the situation is.

Jannet: You said that it depends. Depends on what exactly?

Icicle: I don’t think I should…

Bob: No, don’t do it. It’s too shameful.

Jannet: What are you two talking about? If I can increase my honey’s chances, I’ll do anything!

Is she really the same woman I talked to just a little while ago?

Icicle: I’m sorry, Jannet, there’s really no way we can use that method. Even if it’s effective, the things you would have to do…

Jannet: Just tell me already!

Icicle: We would need you, Jannet, to fake getting raped. There’s no need for the intercourse, live footage or any video to be exact, but we do require a recording of you screaming. However, we do not recommend this method as it is dangerous. You should think really carefully about making this important decision.

Jannet: How can it help my husband? Won’t it just get him depressed? Delusional even?

Icicle: I shouldn’t tell you this, but…that’s exactly the point. Our agents are put on a trial. We’re using the voice of their loved ones to check how will they react in a heat of battle, or during the covert operation. If these people panic, they fail. Some try to ignore their loved ones’ pleas for help, these are disqualified as well. We don’t want insensitive robots.
Do mind, that there’s a chance that instead of helping your husband out, he may shut himself inside. Become a person with something similar to autism, if you prefer that terminology.

Jannet: So, if I’m getting this correctly, as long as my husband is a normal human being, he passes? That’s not much to ask for, is it? And all that shut himself crap, if he’s so weak that he can’t even protect the woman he loves, then who the hell needs such a wuss?!

That’s some fierce reaction.
I need to calm her down a little.

Icicle: For you madame, it definitely isn’t much to ask for, but for people who have gone through hardships like taking away someone’s life, having an actual “sound conscience” is rare. Experiencing nightmares, changes of personality, cold attitude, these kinds of things are perfectly normal after such a shock. That’s why all of the people who take the test have trouble succeeding.
I’d like to point out, that you don’t have to do this whole “faking rape” thing. We’re perfectly fine with just the sample of your voice. Our IT team will process said sample to achieve the same effect.

Jannet: Hmph, do you really think that my husband won’t recognize it’s not my voice? I know him too well. If there’s even one thing done wrong by these IT guys of yours, all you’ll do is make him laugh. Is that the device? Give me 20 minutes. Now, if you’ll excuse me, please wait outside. We don’t want the neighbours to think that something is wrong, do we?

…what do you guys want me to tell you?
Housewifes are scary…
Especially my mother. *shiver*

Waiting for 20 minutes in the car, I had a smalltalk with Bob.

Icicle: How’s Miranda doing, everything fine?

Bob: Thank you for asking sir, my wife and kids are fine. I’ve send you an email with the newborn, haven’t I?

Icicle: You did. I have to say, Bob, for a black child, this one looks really handsome. Are you sure someone didn’t visit your wife? Mailman for example?

Bob: So you’re calling me an ugly black man? As racist as ever, aren’t you, Jason?

Icicle: Fufufu, just like I’ve always been.

Bob: Hmph, makes me want to punch you. Remember the day we met?

Icicle: Of course. Fun times.

…

4 years ago, Bob’s POV

Being born black in a slums neighbourhood doesn’t do you any good.
Your future prospects are limited to becoming a gangster, drug dealer or working for the lowest wage, that’s not even worth drudging for.
Welfare check gives you more than that…

That’s why most black people I knew were stealing, joining gangs and dealing drugs.

I was trying to be different. To no avail.
After finishing highschool, I was wandering through the neighbourhood without any purpose whatsoever.

That’s when four white guys crossed my way.
From what they were saying, I inferred that someone from my neighbourhood sold them shitty product, and one of their friends had to be hospitalized.

It was an obvious misunderstanding. I was trying to talk it out, but without any results.
All I heard was: “You fucking nigger, it’s your fault!” “All of you blacks are unwanted pieces of shit!”
There were many more, but I’ll spare the details.

My physique was burly. Well developed muscles adorned my body.
If only few hits were all it took to settle this dispute, I would gladly take them on.

These white guys were supposedly trying to just vent their anger. Why were they insulting me?
What did I do to you guys? It’s not even my fault that your friend bought shitty drugs!
Why did he even buy them in the first place?
I couldn’t choose my race, you know?!

Constantly getting insulted made me snap.

*whoosh* *whoosh* *thud*

Because they were so small and agile, I couldn’t really hit them.
Using huge swings over and over, I finally started connecting.

One or two hits were enough to knock out these scrawny, white young men.
It took some time, my body was hurting all over, but I emerged victorious.

Still enraged, I saw some white guy in black suit walking slowly towards me.
Thinking that it’s one of these fallen guys, I swung and hit him square in the face.

Landing on his butt, the man spoke up.

Icicle: What the fuck are you doing, you overgrown black monkey?

Hearing these words enraged me even further.
I grabbed the guy who said it by the neck, and lifted him up.

Bob: I dare you to say it again, you white piece of trash!

Icicle: Hmph, you’re nothing more than a black piece of filth who’s wasting the air I breathe.

As I was about to throw a punch, something inside me shuddered.
That’s when I saw the look this person gave me.
Savage. Completely not human, as if he wasn’t even conscious, driven by pure instinct.
Does he have delirium tremens? Is he some kind of a drug addict?

Within the short moment I thought of that, this man’s left hand grabbed my right hand.
Using his right elbow, he hit me in the crevice of my right forearm.

Strength left my right arm, which consequently made me release my grip.
The worst came after that.

Sudden kick to the groin made me drop down on the empty street.

Icicle: Not so talkative and imposing now, are you? If you don’t want to live in that shitty neighbourhood, have a decent chance at life and start a family of your own, here’s my business card. You can find the address of the building there.

Three 100$ bills and a business card fell down on my chest.

Icicle: Buy yourself some nice suit and come meet me at the listed address tomorrow, 6am sharp.

Spitting out blood, the man added.

Icicle: Don’t make me regret my decision, blackie.

*huff* *huff*

That fucking hurt!
Still covering the crotch area with both of my hands, I slowly raised from the ground.
The man in question was long gone, but the business card stated his name,

Jason Underwood – businessman.

There was nothing more than the name and the adress down below.

With resolve of beating the shit out of that Jason guy, I dragged the four unconscious men to the pavement, so they won’t be run over by a car and then headed to the clothing store.

I bought a decent looking black suit, returned to my shabby apartment and anxiously waited for tomorrow.

Leftover of the money was spent on buying an enormous steak for beakfast.
One can’t go to work hungry, after all.

Rested and full, I marched towards my future workplace.

When I reached the address, I was flabbergasted.

Huge area with fences all around, white people in black suits guarding the entrance, not to mention the skyscrapers!
Overwhelmed with the scenery, I thought it’s a joke and all I’ll get will be a beating.

Icicle: Oi, blackie! Over here! Let him in.

Two people guarding the entrance didn’t even respond, but they let me through nonetheless.
Following this Jason guy, I walked inside one of the skyscrapers.

Icicle: Hello Sophie! One chocolate please! What do you want, blackie?

Sophie: Hey, that’s rude!

Icicle: What are you talking about, Sophie? I would call him an N word if I wanted to be rude!

*smack*

Icicle: Owwwww. No need to hit me, okay? I understand…

Sophie: Welcome, young man, it’s the first time Jason brings friends, would you like anything to drink?

Bob: U-Ummm…

I didn’t know what to say… all of this was happening so fast and was so overbearing that I was left unable to act.

Sophie: Don’t be shy, just fire away!

Icicle: Just make him chocolate, Sophie! Everyone loves your chocolate!

Sophie: You’re such a bad kid, let the man decide…

Bob: C-Chocolate please.

Icicle: See, he wanted chocolate anyway!

Sophie: *sigh* Fine, fine, you were right! Are you happy now?

Icicle: Yup!

After Sophie served us two cups of hot chocolate, I followed Jason to the elevator.
It surprised me when he pressed some buttons that made us go deep undeground.

Icicle: Oi, blackie, what’s your name?

What’s that sudden change of tone?

Bob: I-It’s Bob.

Icicle: Listen well, Bob. I may act like everything’s fine in front of Sophie, because I really like her as a person, but I don’t know you. Sophie was always kind to me, showing me her best smile even when she was in trouble. As for you, I’m not sure if I can trust you, so don’t expect me to give you the same treatment. Do you understand?

Bob: I-I do.

What’s his point?

Icicle: *sip* I have no idea why you came here. You could have taken the money and left. It was that simple. However, you came. You probably wanted to rough me up, but now you’re confused as to who I am. I’ll take you coming here, alone to add, as a sign of goodwill. Let me be completely honest with you, Bob…

Hitting the stop button, our elevator screeched until it stopped midair.

Icicle: This entire company was run by my grandfather. He has passed away recently and now all the vultures want to take over. No one’s my ally here. Not even my father. You could see by the reaction of the guards in front of the entrance. They didn’t even bother listening to me. That’s because they’re already on someone else’s payroll.

Huh? He’s looking for allies? Why someone like me?

Bob: U-Umm, Jason, why have you chosen me then? I’m a nobody here.

Icicle: That’s exactly why. You’re not affiliated with any of these guys. I saw you fighting against those white kids. Your movements were sloppy, but you have potential to become a bodyguard.

Taking out one of his business cards, Jason handed me his cup of chocolate and wrote some things down.

Icicle: Here are your working conditions and payment you’ll receive for your work. I’ll quadruple your payment if you pass the test.

The numbers spoke for itself… even the ones on the business card were at least four times higher than what I could get for working legally in my neighbourhood.
And he says I can get four times that?! It’s ridiculous!

Turning around to look the man in the eye, I saw him smiling wryly.

Icicle: No need to answer, your eyes told me everything.

Bob: Say, sir, why are you giving me so much money? You should know that half of that would be enough for an uneducated man like me!

Icicle: Because I want you to realize, that by standing by my side, you can elevate your status of “trash” into “respectable man”. Doesn’t matter if you’re black, red, yellow or even fucking green. Do your job of protecting me right, stay loyal and pass the training course. If you do that, your future will look bright. You’ll be set for life. At least for as long as I live…

Bob: That’s a very tempting offer, but what’s the catch?

Icicle: Hahaha, so you’ve thought of that. Good, good. I start to like you more and more. The catch is you passing the test. Normally, the organization takes people who have passed Intermediary level course. What I expect of you, is to pass Master level. Don’t let me down. Now, before you start thinking of rejecting my offer, I’ll have you meet your new instructor.

Why do I feel like the price for this “dream job” will be very high…?

…

Bob: The amount of willpower needed to pass that ridiculous training course was extraordinary… I thought I’ll die several times. But I pulled through. Not with a Master, but with Advanced level, yet you were still so happy…

Icicle: Of course I was. I didn’t even give you a chance of finishing it as an Intermediate level. Even if you did only that, I would still take you in.

Bob: So you had no faith in me, is that it? You little!

Can’t breathe…!

Icicle: It’s enough, stop choking me. I’m already falling asleep here.

Bob: Oh come on, let me have some fun, Jason. You called me an ugly black man just now!

*thunk*

Bob: What the hell?! Why did you use your elbow!

Icicle: Just to remind you of our first meeting. Stop holding your face like it was the first time you were hit. There are no crybabies in my organization.

Bob: Whatever, we’ll settle this the next time we meet on the ring.

Icicle: You still want to have a go with me? Don’t you remember all your losses?

Bob: You were cheating, you little bastard! I thought I’ll become impotent because of you!

Icicle: There were no rules, how can you call me a cheater?! It was all fair play!

Bob: Fair play my ass! Y-

*click*

Door opened, and from them emerged Jannet.

Jannet: Hey guys, it’s ready. Come on in.

Icicle: Were you saying something?

Bob: Nothing much, we’ll settle this the next time we face off in the organization’s sparring ring.

Icicle: Won’t your wife be angry when you return home beaten up? I had my mother scold me a few times, because these two women somehow know each other. Are you trying to get me killed indirectly, Bob?

Bob: Who knows… What, are you trying to avoid a challenge?

Icicle: Of course not. I’ll take you on anytime. Now, let’s go, Jannet is waiting.

…