Silvertroll

The Cyberbully

The 'Meadows of Mourning' kids sets out into the night, hitting the street on foot. I watch him head away from the main road, towards the leafy suburb, the trees blocking out the street lamps, creating deeper shadows than what the evening already provided. I jump into the van and wait for two minutes, then start it up, the combustion engine breaking the silence, and drive off in that direction. I pass the kid, illuminating him briefly with the headlights, and drive on for two blocks. I pull up, turn the engine off, and wait. I watch as he walks past until he disappears into the dark. I wait a few more minutes, and start her up again, repeating the whole process, but this time I spot the fat nerd kid making his way to the front door of a quarter-front brick veneer home. I park the van across the street two doors down and wait.

Dark thoughts as dark as the shadows I hide in, enter my head. Violent thoughts.

This gives way to shame.

What the fuck am I doing?

I feel stupid, immature, like a petty criminal. I try to answer the question and all I replay in my mind is Silvertroll's violations against me. Eventually, my anger regains control. I crave the taste of justice. I decide I will teach this asshole a lesson, and prove to him no keyboard warrior is untouchable.

I climb out of the van and pull out the aluminium baseball bat I bought at the sports store. I walk across the street, get to the front door and wait under the sensor-activated light. I contemplate whether to knock or kick the door in. I knock twice, then change my mind and bash into the door with my shoulder. It flies open and I thunder into the hallway, passing the lounge room. An elderly couple is sitting in front of the television, shocked and frightened by the sight of me.

Did they not hear the door?

I consider confronting them and embarrassing them over their son's despicable acts, but too many variables remain, and I have little time. I ignore them and head for the bedroom at the end of the hallway, and kick open the door.

It is a geek's paradise; collectable toys are stacked on shelves, and the latest technology, gadgets, and studio lamp lights light up the ceiling. There's a camera on a stand. Even a small green screen.

The fat nerd kid is at his computer; the horror on his face is golden.

"Laugh out loud, fuckstick." I yell at him. I swing the bat and smash the closest monitor. "Ha, ha," I laugh at him as swings again and takes out a large model 'Chthonic Punk' spacecraft.

Screams echo from the other room.

"Hail to the keyboard warrior," I say, looking for the next item to smash. I bring down the bat onto the keyboard, smashing it to bits. The fat nerd kid falls onto his back, shrieking like a horror movie scream queen.

I yell, "What did you think was gonna happen?" I step forward and raise the bat. Looking down, I see the terror on the boy's face.

"I'm sorry," cries the fat nerd kid.

I spot tears, shit that was easy.

The anticlimax is debilitating. "Are you fucking sure?"

The kid nods, his skin glistening with sweat and fear.

This quells my anger. I point at him and say, "You ever try this Silvertroll shit on me again, I will come over here again, and fuck you up."

The fat nerd kid's face changes, "No, no, no, I'm not Silvertroll."

I look at him, "Come again."

"I'm sorry about uploading the video."

"What video?"

He looks at me, "The video of you getting the crap kicked outta you."

I recognise the voice, of the commentator on the video. "You filmed it?"

The frightened fat kid nods, "Silvertroll set it up, man." he adds. "It was just a prank, man."

I remember, "You're the one called The Cyberbully."

"It's only my veejay handle," he cries. "I'm against bullying, I swear."

"Then who the fuck is Silvertroll?"

This makes the kid even more scared, "Ohh, I don't know, man. Please, I don't know."

It doesn't make sense. "Why were you at the parlour?"

"Silvertroll set it up, too."

Fuck.

I hear police sirens.

Double fuck.

I stumble back into the hallway, walking past the lounge. The two terrified seniors watch me, phone in hand, condemnation on their faces. I stop at the door and stare at the blue lights flashing, beaming through the glass panels.