Tracer entered Morrison's office.
„Hello, boss!" she smiled and waved her hand.
"Hi." Jack replied, "We need to talk. Now."
Tracer sat on a chair next to his desk.
"I think you know why I called you here." Jack said.
"No, I actually don't Mr Morrison." Tracer replied.
"Well, I find it intriguing that you don't, since what you've done in the past couple of months should be enough of a reason."
Tracer shrugged, "Do you mean that… I have been causing problems to our organization?"
"Yes. Yes, indeed." Jack said and pulled out a very long piece of paper.
"What's that?" Tracer asked.
"This is the list of all your failed missions and crimes you've been involved with in the past few months." Jack stated, "Let me see… oh, just the first few things on this list would normally be enough to not only fire you, but also sentence you to death by horse tearing."
"What's horse tearing?"
"You don't want to know."
"Well, what are the things that I've been accused of?"
"For example: Stealing money from kids instead of rescuing them from an omnic attack, shouting 'Death to all nignogs' in the middle of an African-american district in Los Angeles, performing so-called 'medical experiments' on kids, involving strapons and whipped cream, setting an entire orphanage on fire, which caused several kids to lose not just faith in humanity, recording yourself on YouTube while taking a shit on the American flag and waving the flag of United Kingdom, shouting out racist and xenophobic statements, and being a high-rank member of the Pedophile World Organization, that only recruits notorious pedophiles and social outcast confirmed to have a child-oppressing history."
"…"
"And that's just about one-thirtieth of what's stated in here."
Tracer looked at him, not knowing what to say.
"Well?"
"Umm, I… guess I just had a bad day?"
"So you had a bad day for one hundred and twenty days straight?"
"Yeah, that's… exactly the case here."
Jack bent over on his chair and calmed his voice, "Tracer, you have no idea how much I had to lie to the government, for them to look the other way."
"You didn't have to lie, though."
"So you want to be sentenced to death?"
Tracer opened her mouth to say something, but stopped as she realized she didn't have any arguments.
"Tracer, I don't think this needs another clarification, but… are you into juveniles?"
"Umm…"
"What about your approach towards African-American people?"
"Well I…"
"Tracer, this has to stop. In fact, the only reason why you're not in jail yet, waiting for execution, is because the government agreed for your treatment."
"What?"
"You'll be taken to an isolated rehab facility for notorious criminals, in Alaska." Jack said, and when Tracer wanted to speak, he interrupted her, "That's not questionable."
"Hmpf…"
"Not only that, you will also be under special control, and you've got to do everything to show them that you're not that bad of a person after all."
"How am I gonna do that?"
"Easy: just try to perform as well as you can during the tests you will undergo. And by 'well' I mean, answer the questions they ask you as though a normal, sane person would answer."
"Alright, alright." Tracer sighed.
"When you're done there after a week, I will task you with a simple mission. You will be watched, but I'm sure that after that week of rehab you will be able to distinguish wrong from right."
"I… do hope so, too." Tracer replied, but there was no confidence in her voice.
Jack got up and kneeled by Tracer.
"Did… something happened those four months ago?"
"… yes."
"… do you wanna talk about it?"
Tracer sobbed and shook her head.
"… it's alright." Jack got up but Tracer grabbed his hand.
"It's… those fucking nignogs… they piss me off so much!" Tracer said with tears in her eyes.
"… alright?"
"And.. and.. aand those fucking kids, running around on the streets, their moms let them piss by a tree in a park, that's so fucking dumb, but… also kind of hot…"
"Alright?" Jack said.
"And I really like smearing whipped cream all over my asshole and my strapon, so…"
"ALRIGHT! I get it! You're weird, I get it. But this doesn't explain why you have become like that four months ago. You haven't been like this before!"
"… maybe."
"Did you hit yourself in the head somewhere?" Jack asked and sat on his chair again, "You're gonna go on a rehab, so maybe you want to go visit doctor Ziegler before when you're at it?"
"Nah, nah, it's fine, I just.. drowned a bit too deep into the depths of the endless pit of evil and absolute weirdness, known as the Internet."
"What do you mean?"
"My friend introduced me to a cool website, where people post memes and talk about stuff… mostly about memes."
"And?"
"And as it turned out, there was a special section on this website, called /n/, for Nignogs."
"Oh."
"And I thought it was a section for African-American people to socialize with each other, and just the creators of the website were very racist and named the section this way."
"I don't think that black people would even bother to 'socialize' on such a website, where a section for them is named after a racist insult."
"Yes, and that's when it hit me: the section was intended for memes with black people and talking shit about black people."
"I somehow can't believe that you suddenly started to hate black people because you saw a few memes."
"No, you don't understand… they told me that nig... I mean, blacks… I mean, black people… I mean, African-Ame…"
"Just get to the point!"
"Right! So, they said, that black people are the absolute worst."
"… aaaand?"
"And that they did 9/11."
"… Aaaaaaand?"
"And that they should be ashamed that they are black! Why are they black? Can't they be white?"
"Actually, no. They can't. That's the point, you don't choose who you born as."
"But.. but… wouldn't it be better for the world if every black person would go and whitened themselves? Like Michael Jackson did, and he finally became a hot, white male?"
"Tracer, you have a problem."
Tracer realized that what she said was idiotic, and hid her face with her hands."
"And what about kids?"
"Umm, I've always been into kids, but only four months ago I finally got the courage to do something about it."
"Alright, I think that's it for our meeting today." Jack said and got up, "You're leaving today."
"I'll go and prepare my plane…"
"No no no, I'll take care of that. And you're definitely not going alone."
"Huh?"
"Go and pack your things. Your transport will be waiting for you in the hangar."
"Who's gonna go with me?"
"You'll see. Go pack yourself. And don't think of anything stupid. There are cameras everywhere around, and I can't reliably say whether or not you're being watched by some government agents right now."
Tracer left and went to her room. She packed everything up, including her dildo collection, and a few cans of whipped cream. She just couldn't live without those.
When she finished, she left her room and went to the hangar. Dva was waiting for her there.
"Hi Tracer!" Dva said, "I'm gonna take you to that facility in Alaska!"
"Oh, hi Dva!" Tracer smiled, "It's a bit weird that they put you in charge."
"Why so?"
"Well, I thought they would assign someone… older?"
"Like who, Winston?" Dva chuckled, "Come on, Tracer! I'm 19!"
"Yeah, that's what I'm worried about…"
"Anyway, this is our ship." Dva pointed at a spaceship nearby.
"But… that's a spaceship." Tracer said.
"Yeah, so what?"
"We're going to Alaska, not space…"
"Well, I figured it would be fun to visit my alien friend that lives on Mars first, and then take you to Alaska."
"Haha?"
"Actually, all of our other vehicles are out of gas, so this is the only one we can use."
"You can just refuel those other ships."
"Fuel is expensive, you know."
"… alright, whatever, let's go."
"But first, drink this." Dva gave Tracer a can of Mountain Dew.
"I'm not thirsty."
"Drink it or else."
"Or else what?"
"Or else I'll gently pour it into your ass."
"But what if I refuse?"
"Then I will have to exterminate you."
"… fine, here." Tracer drank the Dew in one sip, "Happy?"
"Yeah, and now eat this." Dva gave Tracer a single Dorrito.
"Fine?" Tracer ate the dorrito.
"And now blaze this and we're good to go." Dva gave tracer a joint.
"Fine... Wait, what?"
"Blaze it or I'll tell everyone what you fap to."
"How would you know?"
"I saw you once through a keyhole, fapping."
"And what did you saw?"
"I think there were some tentacles, going into that underage girl's…"
"ALRIGHT!" Tracer blazed the joint and then ate it, "Happy?!"
"Yup! Let's go!"
Tracer and Dva entered the spaceship, but suddenly, Tracer started feeling dizzy."
"Something wrong?" Dva asked.
"It's that weed… I don't really feel…" and then she passed out.
TO BE CONTINUED…