The Troll (25 page)

The
Guide was on the top floor, facing The Mortician, who started to work
his hands through the elevator again for the rod. If he couldn’t
pry it out, The Coach would. He tried to develop a plan, but barely
had the energy to move. He dragged his feet to the wall where a pipe
and faucet hung, five feet away. He gasped for breath as he tried to
move forward, but his body was caught on bots—bots that held
him in place. They surrounded his feet and two placed themselves in
front of his chest. The Guide prepared himself for death, traumatized
that he’d gotten so close to ridding himself of the bots. The
bots slowly turned him as The Coach reached the top, seemingly winded
from the stairs himself. It was no wonder The Coach was part of the
group. He didn’t have to fight. He had his team do it for him.

He
faced The Coach, bots holding him in place. Behind his back, The
Mortician stood in the elevator, waiting for The Guide to be
delivered.

The
Coach wore a smug smile. “You’re dead Guide. You get
that, right?”

“
Yeah,
I get it,” The Guide said. “This is the peace you boys at
Circular Prime are always bragging about. This is your non-violent
world.”

“
Oh
no,” The Coach said. “You’ve got it all wrong. We
reserve violence only for those who don’t comply. You shouldn’t
have stirred the pot.”

“
Then
just finish this.”

The
Coach said nothing. He just nodded in agreement and activated his
bots again. They slowly directed The Guide backwards, right to where
The Mortician’s arms were reaching out of the elevator.

The
Troll stood on a large metal beam, which was one among many beams
that criss-crossed under the bridge, reinforcing its strength. It was
a long fall to the water below, and above, the bridge blocked out
daylight, which only reflected on the water below. Everything under
the bridge was silhouettes. The beams below and to his sides were all
just shadows, making it harder to maneuver without losing his footing
and falling to the water below.

The
only light at the end of this tunnel was that The Pilot would face
the same problems. The Pilot’s shtick wasn’t the one The
Troll needed right now. He needed to face someone who was afraid as
he was to be balancing himself in the dark. The Pilot wouldn’t
flinch. He wondered if that was a good thing. The Pilot was too busy
staying in character to realize when he was in over his head.
Crashing his ride was proof that the man could be distracted. But The
Troll had no element of surprise left.

He
ducked behind a large beam as he saw The Pilot lower himself into the
opening in the street. Chunks of the street fell with him and
cascaded to the river below, but The Pilot landed on his feet,
causing an echoing clang. He put his arms out for balance, faltered
for a moment, but stood straight a moment later and surveyed the
area. The Troll could see his silhouette from where he was crouched,
but The Pilot would have to come closer to see him, especially since
the sunglasses never left his face. He carried on in the dark, so
unafraid that darkening the world more wasn’t enough deterrent
to break character.

The
Troll watched, mindful of his upper-hand. If he could manage not to
be seen until The Pilot was close enough to give a good shove, he
would win. Somehow, he didn’t believe that would happen, and if
he waited for that instead of acting, he’d be dead.

He’d
constantly felt as if his world was turned on its head. The whole
last week was too surreal to process. Was the same guy crouched in
the dark the same person who not ten days ago prioritized bothering
people? His environment had changed and he’d changed too, but
without choice. Something was different though. He didn’t want
to beg for his life and he didn’t want to necessarily find his
way to Chicago to live among the men at Circular Prime.

All
he could think about was defeating The Pilot, and when that was done,
he wanted Rainbow, and to show The Guide he wasn’t so bad, and
to see Iris and make sure she was okay. For all he knew, they were
all dead and Rainbow was as good as gone, but if he had to be forced
on this journey, he wasn’t going to walk away without some kind
of trophy. If no other damage was done, he wanted to at least rub it
in everyone’s face that this smug bastard couldn’t get
the best of him.

His
fingers started moving, but not because he had something to say. He
only told himself over and over that he couldn’t fall, that he
had to focus. He shadow-typed “focus” repeatedly, using
it as his only motivation. The feel of the keyboard wasn’t
there, but he’d spent so much time with it, that he knew how to
keep his hands steady. Shadow-typing was his balance beam and
hopefully it was better than whatever it was The Pilot had.

He
slowly stood, and backed away down a beam, holding a cable in his
right hand and moving backward just by feel.

“
I
think I called it at dinner that night,” The Troll spoke
loudly, causing The Pilot to turn in his direction and freeze, as if
he was
trying to figure
out what The Troll was up to. “I think you use silence as
intimidation, but I have yet to see what you can do. Fighting me
isn’t an accomplishment. I’m not a fighter, and you knew
that from the start. You could have showed up wearing a pink tutu and
I would have run from you, but that’s the thing Pilot. I’m
not going to run. I wouldn’t be able to if I tried. I’m
going to test this theory and see if you’re actually everything
you try so hard to personify, or if a vidiot like me can beat you.”

The
Troll could still only see the shape of The Pilot, but he stood still
long enough to make The Troll believe he was faltering. Whatever he
was doing, it lacked his usual confidence.

“
You
know what the problem is Pilot?” The Troll went on, backing up
as The Pilot started moving forward. “I’ve known from the
beginning that I wouldn’t make this journey. I didn’t
expect to. None of you thought I’d do as much damage as I’ve
done, and when I’m dead, you’re all going to have to
explain that. The world saw your plane go down. You can’t hide
it this time. Who knows what my friends have done to your friends?
You guys have lost the very thing that is the most important to you:
Invincibility. I may not have a fight with you , but when I’m
dead and gone, you’re going back to a world that knows how
flawed you are and how a random person exposed that. You see Pilot, I
accepted my fate
days
ago, but I just want to remind you that I’m going to die
feeling victorious for what happened, and because I’ll forever
know, your reputation is broken because of me.”

The
Pilot kept moving, but he wasn’t focused. In fact, he looked
conflicted, as if he had something to say, but knew he couldn’t
say it. The Troll was playing a game he’d played many times on
the boards: Offense. When others played defense, they were too busy
defending themselves to pay attention to the accuser. The Troll had
an advantage: A man who wouldn’t defend himself with words
would easily become frustrated, conflicted, make mistakes.

Anything
to take The Pilot’s attention off of his own footing would work
just fine.

The
Pilot tried to move faster forward than The Troll moved backward.
Shadows crossed their faces as they pursued in a very slow chase. The
Troll tried to pick up the pace, but realized his foot had been on
the very edge of a beam. He shifted back to the center and began
sliding his shoes back, as if moon-walking.

“
Everyone
else has these built in superpowers,” The Troll said. “All
they did was give you an airplane? What you guys do? Line up and
proclaim what you wanted to be and
everyone
else had a talent except you? You just stared silently because you’re
too dumb to say anything intelligent and they said ‘how about
we just put him in a vehicle’? It’s pathetic Pilot. It
really is. What exactly makes you special? Wait…don’t
answer that,” The Troll mocked. “Silence.”

He
realized The Pilot was really moving now, one foot expertly stepping
over the other with both hands on the cable.

“
You
know the problem with silence though?” The Troll asked.
“Everyone thinks you’re a joke and you just have to take
it up the tailpipe. And if you did talk, you’d make an even
bigger fool of yourself. You don’t have talent. You can’t
fly. You’re not as strong as all the others. You Pilot, are a
professional failure.”

A
window suddenly opened. The Pilot had closed enough distance and was
a few feet away. The Troll could see the features on his face and the
hardened jaw he was famous for. They stood on the same beam and held
the same cable, and The Pilot was too focused on gaining on The Troll
to see the whole picture.

The
Troll suddenly yanked the cable toward them both with a sudden pull
of the hands. He reached out and balanced himself immediately after,
pressing his hand against another beam opposite the cable, but The
Pilot didn’t see it coming and suddenly was pulled backward
with nothing to hold onto. He tried to grab the cable, but only
managed to hook his index finger around it. The Troll shook it again,
and suddenly The Pilot’s body was in a moment of free-fall. The
Pilot flailed wildly, catching onto the beam he'd previously been
standing on at the last second with his fingers, his weight dangling
below him and working against him. His sunglasses fell off his face
and after a few moments, hit the water below.

The
Troll stared down at The Pilot, who looked up at him with desperation
in his eyes. He tried to reach his hand up, as if asking for a hand
to pull him up.

“
Use
your words,” The Troll said, taunting him.

The
Pilot said nothing. He grabbed the beam again for leverage and
reached his other hand up, moving his fingers desperately.

“
I
don’t read sign language,” The Troll said, and then
pulled himself down into a sitting position and straddled the beam
right above The Pilot. “Let’s face it: You’d kill
me. I can’t pull you up.”

The
Pilot’s eyes begged and finally, he managed words. “I
don’t…want...to die.”

The
Troll was almost sympathetic but something else came to him
instead—something very real, and as he said it, his fingers
typed it.

“
I
just wanted to be left alone. I didn’t choose to do this. I was
forced to pick the side I wasn’t even on. And to top it all
off, you still treated me like an enemy. You still acted like I was
less than you. And even though I was on your side when this started,
the only reason I’m not anymore, is because you forced me to be
the opposing side. You forced me to fight back. You don’t have
the right to complain that your life is going to be ended by the same
monster you created. I didn’t kill you Pilot. You killed
yourself.”

Before
either could say anything more, The Pilot let go and fell.

When
The Troll found the pavement again, he squinted as he adjusted to the
light. The sun was high enough in the sky now and everything was
surprisingly quiet. He started his walk to the end of the bridge and
to Heritage Square. It wasn’t long before he realized something
was wrong. At a distance, he could see Iris standing on the edge of
the bridge looking back at…

The
Poet?

That
loser wasn’t supposed to be here. He started walking faster,
trying to register the situation. Iris looked on the verge of
jumping, but paused when she saw The Troll coming at a distance.

The
Poet turned his attention too and smiled upon seeing The Troll. “Draw
near young knave,” The Poet said. “I undergo a judicious
journey to bring vengeance to you, you insolent mushroom.”

The
Troll stopped and frowned. “Um…I doeth not und’rstandeth
how this works argal I will not useth it. Doeth though wanteth to
shove a rotten hog up thy asshole?”

The
Poet held Rainbow high, ready to toss it into the water. “Join
her,” he said, his smile gone.

“
And
do what? Jump? No way.”

“
Do
it or this is gone forever.”

“
Good,”
The Troll said. “I love Psi. Always have. It’s the tools
who control it that are the joke.”

“
Your
call,” The Poet said and brought his hand back.

“
Wait!”
Iris shouted, desperately. The Poet paused as she turned to The
Troll. “Please…don’t do this.”

“
Don’t
do what?” The Troll asked. “He’s the one doing it.”

“
Don’t
let him destroy it.”

“
He’ll
destroy it either way,” The Troll said. “And even if he
didn’t, if we jump and die, there’s no one left to use it
anyway.”

“
Someone
will someday,” she said, tears forming in her eyes. “If
it’s destroyed, there will be nothing left that can shut Psi
down.”