Silvertroll

Phlox

I study each commuter around me.

There exists no criteria to base my search. Unlike Alicia, who'd be all over this case, I have no skills in detective work. What does this suspect look like? How would they behave if they were here? I realise I am seeking the impossible, so I simplify things a little. I begin searching the faces, looking for any to show the slightest acknowledgement of my presence; a look my way, a shifty glance at my direction, any eye contact at all.

Woop.

I look down at my phone. A new message.

[PHLOX] TO THE GUY SITTING NEXT TO THE FRUMPY PURPLE-HAIRED GIRL. ARE YOU THE MYSTERIOUS [SILVERTROLL]???? THE GIRL IN THE RED STILETTOS REALLY WANTS TO KNOW.

I look around, searching the crowd for any unusual expressions, a smirk, a smile, anything. I'm that desperate. 

I respond.

[CAVEMAN10] NO.

[PHLOX] ARE YOU SURE? LIBBY'S BEEN WAITING TO HEAR BACK FROM YOU A LONG TIME.

[CAVEMAN10] NOT ME.

I spot the girl next to me thumbing at her device.

[PHLOX] SHE MISSES YOU.

[CAVEMAN10] YOU GOT THE WRONG GUY.

[PHLOX] I THINK NOT.

FAIL. No network.

Shit. I shake the phone even though that is not how things work. The other commuters utter similar grievances. "Fucking network," I curse through clenched teeth.

"It's not the network," says the girl with the purple hair next to me.

I turn to the girl near the window. "Nice hair," I tell her.

"Thanks," she replies. She appears unsure of how to take it.

"Should have guessed it," I say. "Perennial flowers, I get it."

"You get what?"

I notice confusion briefly flash across her eyes. I can't work out if she's hiding her surprise or if she is genuinely clueless. I look away. I don't know who she is or what she wants. I'm not interested. She's a distraction set up by Silvertroll, meant to set me back, so I get back to shaking my phone.

I know the Silvertroll is watching.

"It's not the network," she repeats.

I look back at her, now half-interested.

She says, "It's the guy over there, reading 'Man of Nothing'."

I remain poker-faced, but I turn my head to spy on a man at the end of the carriage, the only one reading an actual book.

Phlox explains, "He's been doing it for six months now. Probably got sick of hearing crappy phone conversations. He's like a silent avenger."

"Doing what?

She leans over and whispers, "He's using a jammer."

"A what?"

"A jammer. You know. There are a few of us that know. None of us regulars says anything. We like not having to listen to crappy conversations too."

I don't get any of it, "You've lost me there."

"So, what do you think of Libby?"

"Who?"

"The girl over there with the red stilettos?"

I quickly recall, "She's in the next carriage."

"So, you are keeping tabs on her?" she accuses me.

I don't like the way this is going, "Let's just say I'm keeping tabs on everybody."

"Why?"

Who is this woman? I look at her, unsure what to make of all the questions. "Well," I say, "that's none of your fucking business." I can still sense her looking at me, unperturbed, determined to make my life more miserable than it is.

Or am I looking at this the wrong way?