Franc, a little boy with insatiable curiosity in his eyes, had just come face to face with the absolute unknown. Standing before him was Éric Reeve, the new gardener, the first man with deeply dark skin that his eyes had ever encountered. The shock was less fear than sensory stupefaction, a violent rupture with the uniform and sterilized world he knew.
"Tell me, sir," Franc began, his voice tinged with an innocence that bordered on impertinence, "are you the new gardener my parents were talking about?".
Éric, a man with gentle features but marked by a silent gravity, responded with a simple nod: "Yes, that's me".
Franc's mind raced, desperately searching for a logical framework for this difference. In his books, physical anomalies were symptoms. "Why are you like that?" he asked, a crease of worry furrowing his brow. "What illness are you suffering from, or is it me who is sick?".
The gardener smiled, an ephemeral smile that shaded his gaze with an old sorrow. "No, you are mistaken," he replied with surprising gentleness. "I was born like this, it's not an illness".
The explanation only intensified the torrent of questions in Franc's head, a visceral need for information. "Why are you like that, I have so many questions to ask you!".
Éric, leaning on his rake, chose his words as one tells a myth to a child: "I come from very far away," he murmured. "From a place where the sun is scorching, a place where every morning, you let yourself be amazed by the gentleness of nature".
Franc's face lit up with pure fascination. "Does that kind of place exist?".
"Yes, but as I said, it's very far away," Éric replied, before the urgent call of Franc's mother brutally interrupted this unexpected exchange, reminding him of his professional obligations. "I have to go".
In the rush, Franc just managed to elicit the name of this enigmatic stranger: "Just, what is your name?".
"Éric, Éric Reeve".
Franc repeated the name, an anchor dropped into the turmoil of his thoughts: Éric Reeve. Immediately, Franc rushed towards his room, his gait dictated by a fever for research. The room, usually his sanctuary of studies, became the scene of a frantic search. He went through all his documents and textbooks, but nowhere was there any information about "people of black color". It was a void, a total omission in his codified universe.
The sounds of his quest drew the attention of Christopher, his older brother, who was crossing the hallway. Christopher, older and more pragmatic, was Franc's rock, the only figure of authority and emotional closeness in this house where the parents were ghosts, absorbed by their incessant work.
"What are you doing, my brother?" Christopher asked.
"Hi Christ, I'm trying to find information," Franc breathed, distress in his voice.
"Can I help you?".
Franc turned, his need for information taking precedence over any embarrassment. "Tell me, brother, do you know Éric Reeve?".
Christopher smiled. "Éric the gardener? Of course, I know him, I'm the one who recommended him to Dad".
A breath of hope passed through Franc. "Then you must know a lot of stuff about him".
"Tell me, Franc, what exactly do you want to know?".
Franc's answer was straightforward, summarizing the shock of his discovery. "I want to know everything about people like him".
Christopher sat down, his tone becoming composed and instructive. "Listen carefully to what I am going to say. Éric comes from very far away, a continent different from ours, a continent named Africa".
"Africa?" Franc repeated, the word resonating strangely.
"Africa is a continent where many people like Éric live, they are called Africans. Unfortunately, a large part of this continent is not as rosy as you might imagine". Christopher did not give more details, protecting his little brother from the dark reality, but sowing doubt.
Yet, for Franc, the urgency was not about study, but connection. "Christ, do you know where I can find him?".
Christopher, always the accommodating older brother, nodded. "Yes, I myself prepared an apartment for him and his family. If you want, I can take you to see him tomorrow".
"Is that true?" Franc asked, his excitement palpable.
"On condition that you learn your lessons well, okay," Christopher conditioned.
"Okay, thank you, my brother".
The next day, Éric's apartment was empty. Christopher made a mundane excuse—"maybe they have things to do"—before announcing the news that brought Franc back to the usual solitude: "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you that tomorrow I will be returning to France. Do you need me to bring you anything?".
"You're already leaving? That's too bad," Franc said, his heart heavy.
"Yes, they need me over there," Christopher justified.
"Then bring me everything you can find," Franc asked, a childish request that made his brother smile. Christopher stroked Franc's head, a rare and precious gesture of affection. "You stay here to wait for Éric, I'm going to go get ready for my trip". He walked away, leaving Franc in an unfamiliar place.
Alone, Franc began to feel a growing sense of discomfort. He sensed a gaze, an invisible presence that made him uneasy. "Who's there? Show yourself, I felt your presence," he called out into the void.
Suddenly, a boy the same age appeared. "Who are you?" the stranger asked.
Franc stared at him, noticing that he had the same skin color as Éric, the same mysterious shade that had so intrigued him. Before he could answer, Éric Reeve entered.
"Ah, it's you, Mr. Cortez," Éric said, in an apologetic tone. "You must have waited a long time, I'm sorry. And I see you've already made Kevin's acquaintance".
"So that's what you're called?" Franc threw at the child.
Kevin's reply was stinging, tinged with adult suspicion. "Don't talk to me like that, I'm not your friend".
Éric intervened sharply: "Kevin, be nice to the boss's son".
"Dad, I already told you not to call me by that name," Kevin retorted, a deep bitterness in his voice.
The idea sprouted in Franc's mind. To pierce the mystery, he had to pierce Kevin's wall. "I have an idea," he said. "How about I go and talk with Kevin, just to really get to know him?".
Éric saw it as a chance for appeasement. "That's a good idea. Well, I'll see you later!".
The two boys walked away, and Franc, through his stubborn candor, managed to break the ice. Kevin, initially hostile, began to show a slight friendship.
They arrived in Franc's room, an immense space overloaded with documents. Kevin, overwhelmed by the ostentatious luxury, couldn't help but ask: "It's super big, what are all these documents?".
"It's for studies," Franc replied, before returning to his real obsession. "I'd like to know, actually, what is your real name? From what I've heard, you have another name".
Kevin's face froze. The silence stretched, heavy. "Actually, the very day we came to Brooklyn with my family, my father was weird," Kevin began, his voice dropping to a confessional whisper. "He changed my name, his own name, and my mother's without giving the slightest explanation".
"Without giving an explanation?".
"Yes, that was a few days before my mother was found lifeless, covered in blood, in our apartment".
The word "blood" hit Franc like a physical blow. All the innocence of his quest collapsed. In shock, he hugged Kevin tightly, an instinctive and desperate embrace. "It must have been traumatizing to see such a horrible scene at such a young age," Franc murmured, experiencing the raw pain of the other for the first time.
Kevin drew back. The secret was too heavy. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid it's impossible to say my real name for now".
"No problem," Franc said, understanding the depth of the trauma. Kevin changed the subject, escaping into another mystery. "Tell me, Franc, do you believe in ghosts?".
"No," Franc replied, his mind still anchored in the logic of his books.
"Where I come from, there are people who worship ghosts, and I really want to see a real one".
"Spiritual, mystical, or supernatural things do not exist. They are imaginations," Franc retorted.
Kevin insisted, pointing out the window. "I swear they do, look out the window, that star coming towards us, it really looks like a ghost".
Franc, surprised by the sudden dimness—"What, is it already night?"—looked up, searching for the "star".
Franc's heart stopped. The shooting star was not a mystical sign. It was a bomb. "I-it-it's a bomb," he managed to stammer.
"What do you mean, a bomb? Do you think we're in a movie or something?" Kevin exclaimed, incredulous.
"Don't argue... run..." Franc ordered.
The explosion was cataclysmic. The sound tore the air, and the sumptuous Cortez residence was pulverized. Miraculously, Franc and Kevin had escaped the blast.
In the dust and rubble, Franc had only one thought. "I'm going to see how my parents are".
"Wait for me, don't leave me here," Kevin pleaded, his fear raw.
They ran through the ruins, looking for their loved ones. They found them, but not in the way they had hoped. The shock was so brutal that it warped reality. "No, tell me I'm dreaming," Franc groaned. "It's not possible," Kevin whispered, tears in his eyes.
The Cortez family—the parents, the beloved Christopher—lay lifeless on the floor. The scene was nightmarish, an oppressive silence around the bodies. Next to them, frozen in a pose of judge and executioner, stood Éric, the gardener, with a bladed weapon in his hand. Franc's throat tightened. The blood of his loved ones, the steel of the knife, Éric's presence. He couldn't move anymore.
"Éric, what happened? My parents, my brother," he managed to articulate, his voice broken.
Kevin's reaction was that of the betrayed son. "Dad, why? Why did you do this?".
Éric, his face now cold, delivered his confession with clinical brutality. "I'm sorry, Mr. Cortez, I killed them to survive, just like my wife".
At that instant, armed men, their faces masked by hoods, invaded the premises. "These men?" Kevin asked.
"You see, Mr. Cortez, I killed them so that these men here would spare me," Éric explained. He turned to his son. "Kevin, do you understand now? It's for our safety that I changed our names, but your mother was stubborn. So I was forced to eliminate her".
Franc was frozen. He saw nothing but the lifeless body of Christopher, the role model, the confidant. Silent tears flowed down his cheeks, a mixture of grief and disbelief.
Strangely, the mercenaries, who were supposed to be Éric's accomplices, pointed their weapons at him. "If I understand correctly, after everything I've done, you decide to betray me at the last moment?" Éric asked, a bitter gleam in his eyes. "Do you really think I'm going to let you get me so easily?".
One of the mercenaries replied: "That's the sad reality. You wanted to live without debris so much that you let yourself be overwhelmed by your impulses, and now, the boss wants us to bring back your head. Given all the massacre you've done, you didn't steal your title, 'CODE 03'".
"To think I executed all the orders of that bastard boss," Éric spat out with bitter regret. "It's a shame, I'm afraid I won't be the only one to be eliminated".
"Do you really want to oppose it," the boss said, pointing to himself. "Don't forget your place, you are 'CODE 03' and I am 'CODE 01'".
CODE 01 shot, but Éric avoided the bullets with disconcerting agility. "Still so agile, that's impressive!" CODE 01 sneered. "But how are you going to get out of this? I should point out that you can only use bladed weapons, that's your specialty. Unlike you, I can use all of them".
Éric hid in the debris, trying to disorient his opponent. "This is annoying," CODE 01 growled. He ordered his unit to track and kill the fugitive. That's when he noticed the two surviving boys.
"Kids?" He approached, pointing his two automatic pistols at them.
"Leave us alone," Kevin shouted, fury replacing fear. "You destroyed everything, what do you want in the end?".
"You are quite brave to talk to me in that tone, when I have a weapon pointed at you," CODE 01 observed. "Or maybe you've already experienced a similar ordeal".
"You won't get away with this," Kevin threatened.
"And who's going to stop me?".
A member of the unit contacted CODE 01.
"Code23 to Code01, the target counter-attacked, we have had heavy losses".
"Heavy losses? How many exactly?".
"Half the unit".
CODE 01 was stunned. "But there are about twenty of us! How could he do such a thing, it's worthy of a children's tale".
"Affirmative, he is armed with a dagger".
"A bladed weapon. Stay on your guard," CODE 01 ordered. "We are dealing with a professional in camouflage and bladed weapon handling, he can come out from anywhere and whenever he wants".
"That's a bit of cheating to blab everything like that," said a voice just behind CODE 01. Éric had just appeared, invisible until that moment.
CODE 01 cut contact with his unit. "I made the mistake of underestimating you, and I lost comrades-in-arms because of it. Count on me to make you pay for it".
Éric, before engaging, delivered a final touch of irony. "I didn't think you were that nice, CODE 01, you even spared the life of my son and his new friend. That's charming!".
The confrontation began. CODE 01, abandoning his firearms out of determination, fought bare-handed, opposing his rage and will to the deadly finesse of Éric's dagger. Although exhausted from his previous fights, Éric was staggeringly agile. Against all odds, CODE 01 gained the advantage, his determination making him a living weapon.
Franc, plunged into a catatonic state, saw none of this duel, his eyes fixed on Christopher's body. Kevin, on the other hand, was a horrified witness. He saw another mercenary attack his father from behind, cowardly. Éric, stabbed in the back, understood the extent of the betrayal. "I thought I was going to have a fair fight! Was that your plan from the start, making me believe it was just the two of us?".
"I executed the boss's order by eliminating you with my unit, it's that simple. You know very well that I always execute orders to the letter," CODE 01 coldly replied.
"What are you going to do with these children?" Éric asked, agony in his voice.
"Only the boss can decide their fate".
"Life is truly unfair, don't you think," Éric said, a final murmur. "I who have always been loyal, just got stabbed in the back".
"The boss was right to get rid of you, you are far too dangerous," CODE 01 concluded.
Éric, the "CODE 03", died. CODE 01 reported to the boss, describing the successful annihilation of "the most influential family in Brooklyn" and the elimination of "CODE 03". He mentioned the two boys.
"Add them to the other children and return to the camp".
"At your orders," CODE 01 replied.
IN 2025, IN BROOKLYN
The narration shifted, turning into a sinister dialogue, like a distant echo. "So, Franc lost all his loved ones because of Éric's betrayal and the mercenaries' schemes?" Ans asked.
"Yes," replied Koto, the narrator, in a grave voice. "But that's where Franc chose a new path".
"A new path?".
"Yes. Listen carefully to everything I'm going to say from now on".