Silvertroll

Parlour 80

According to Arlan, the cyberpunk aesthetic is the in thing these days. Adorned with neon lights, vibrant colours, repurposed furnishings, the entertainment arcade is pumping, the billiard table and bar section, bustling with patrons of all ages and fashions. It doesn't feel futuristic at all, rather, it all seems ancient, used, regurgitated from a time long vanished.

Arlan is once again surprised I don't recognise the cultural tropes surrounding me. I don't try to explain. How do you explain to a modern eighteen-year-old that there's more to life than movies, comics and books? The synthesizer music is familiar, but I don't dare reveal that in case he asks more delving questions about it. I just sit near the pinball machine, drink my beer and listen to the kid's chatter from nearby.

Connor aims the cue stick at the eight-ball. "He's what is known as an 'Ultimate Noob'."

Phlox looks over at me, sitting alone in the dark. "What's an ultimate noob?" she asks.

Connor is quick to explain, "A person who starts off inexperienced in a particular sphere or activity, especially computing or the use of the Internet, but ends up a zen master that puts to shame other gurus or pros."

Arlan sits back and crosses his feet, "You're giving him way too much credit. Silvertroll is running circles around him. Probably watching us right now."

Gee, thanks, I complain in silence as I look around the bar searching for my phantom nemesis.

Arlan adds, "If Silvertroll actually shows up and makes contact in any way, we can identify him." He pulls out a small ten-inch laptop from his satchel and opens it. "That's if this Silvertroll takes the bait. Phlox, I require Libby's Neechat account details."

Phlox sits down next to Arlan, takes the laptop and, consulting her phone, enters the details. "Silvertroll's been pestering Libby for a date. She's agreed to meet him here."

"So," argues Arlan, "Means nothing. We're dealing with a pro here. A super catfish. They're not gonna blow their cover, no matter how vain they are."

Phlox announces, "She's here."

The boys and I turn to see Libby entering, glamoured up and wearing her red stilettos. Arlan and Connor are transfixed. I don't blame them.

"Oh, I get it," says Arlan.

"Don't look at her, watch the crowd," I tell Phlox.

Libby walks to the bar and waits, prompting me to get up, move away and stand facing the pinball machine called 'The Arena'. Phlox hands the laptop back to Arlan and joins Connor at the pool table. I shove coins into the slot and the machine lights up. I pull the plunger and shoot the steel ball into the game. It goes straight past the bumpers and right between the flippers.

"Shit," I curse, taking the time between plays to watch Libby, and scan the other patrons.

Next to Libby, a teen-aged girl flirts with a disinterested himbo. At the sports bar, a fat nerd kid flicks the ear of a smaller nerd kid trying to play billiards. Towards the street entrance, a gang of cybergoth kids loiter, overacting cool. An older couple commandeers the pinball machine next to me, the woman hugging a large fluffy pink gorilla. After missing four shots at the ball, I give the couple their space. I move away, studying the other machines when I notice a video arcade machine's top score attributed to...

... Silvertroll.

My eyes swing towards the crowd. I spot Libby heading to the toilets, so I move to intercept her. I reach her just as she is about to enter, grabbing her by the elbow. "Who chose this place?"

"I chose it."

Her determined eyes make me more suspicious, "I don't think so."

"You are going to fuck this up," she says, her anger emphasising her word. Libby pulls her arm away and storms into the female toilets. I stand here, unsure of my next step, somehow feeling slightly duped, when I see the fat nerd kid enter the female toilets.

That's him.

The "Meadows of Mourning'' t-shirt irks my memory. I've seen this guy before, on the train. Once my brain confirms this as an actual memory, I switch to predator mode and enter after him. I see two of the three cubicles are used. Walking up to the sink to wash my hands, watching the cubicle doors via the mirror.

I dry up at the blower, and reach for my phone, texting the crew...

[CAVEMAN10] SILVERTROLL IS HERE.

I wait.

Woop.

I check my phone.

[PHLOX] WHERE R U???

[PHLOX] SILVERTROLL HAS MADE CONTACT

Two women barge into the toilets. One is shocked to see me, the other annoyed, disgusted at the sacrilege. A toilet flushes so I hasten out of there and join the team huddled around Arlan.

Arlan sees me, "I've got something."

"You need to read this," says Phlox. I look at the screen. Arlan, Connor and Phlox move over so I can get a look at the laptop.

[L88Y] IS THAT U?

[SILVERTROLL] IT'S ME. WHO ELSE WOULD IT BE?

Holy shit.

[L88Y] WHY DID U DISAPPEAR ON ME LIKE THAT?

[SILVERTROLL] I DIDN'T. U LEFT ME. REMEMBER.

What? My head grapples with what I am reading.

I look at the young adults, thankful to have them on my side, regretting to have to dump them like a sack of bricks. "Go home. All of you," I tell them as my eyes wait for my prey to emerge from the toilets.

Phlox looks around; searching, "Where is he?"

"Go the fuck home," my rage has wormed its way into the command centre of my brain. I spot the fat nerd kid wearing the "Meadows of Mourning" t-shirt, already afoot and heading for the exit.

I move fast.

I hear Phlox calling out, "Wait. Where's Libby?"

It doesn't concern me. My focus is on following and confronting Silvertroll, and working out what the hell I'm going to do once I do.

My phone rings.

It's Alicia.

Fuck!