Amson, 18, "Net Tailing"

"When I saw this, I realized why the collective of Butcher Cross was so goddamn afraid of you." Fuckbelt nudged me on the shoulder. "You fight like a motherfucking dog, man-- a damn dirty one, too."

"The Goliath makes his exciting re-iterate…" He was so infatuated with that idea, but I was frozen, trapped within a fraction of time, it seemed. Looking at that guy behind the screen, I saw myself, but peering deeper into him, I also saw someone else.

"Why do you seem so surprised, man?" Fuckbelt asserted, confused. "This is you!"

Fuckbelt glanced upon me, estranged by my reaction, but who could blame him? Everyone'd had it in their heads that I was some tyrannical, assypathetic brute without rhyme nor reason.

It hurt, swallowing the truth as it was thrust so clearly upon me, but the more I thought I might resign my defenses, my mouth spoke another, more damnable parry.

"N-No, no it's not…" I assured him, backing even deeper into that fictitious corner.

He inched away, looking at me with an eyebrow raised. It was apparent that he had no idea what the fuck I meant, but I couldn't say it any other way. That guy behind that screen was not me: I wasn't ready to accept him just yet.

"Is it true, what you say?" Fuckbelt said, the tone of his voice shifting. "Is this not you?"

I couldn't respond, holding my mouth shut with my own two hands. They encapsulated my face as I forced my silence from breaking yet finding the strength of will to hold my mind together, at the same time. I felt as if confuddled, something churning the insides of my stomach, yet he continued to stare at me, unfazed.

After a while, Fuckbelt closed his laptop shut, his eyes finally turning away. They lie half-closed as he spoke again as he returned to a more relaxed posture.

"Well, if it's not you, then it's none of my business." He uttered, catching me off guard.

Just like that… it didn't sit right with me. I assumed he was just trying to be respectful, but it was way too easy... He'd likely just had enough of my shit.

"Just to be clear with you, I'm not here to get to know you, man…" He clarified, that belligerent excitement along his face dissipating. "… and though I'd be more than down to chat, I'm not here to get any more philosophical than I needa be."

He folded his arms, scratching his head in an awkward, bothered way.

"I just thought your reaction would be more…" He stopped again, thinking. "Realistic."

By the look along his face, my reaction'd struck him in an odd fashion, and as I was seeing him, paused there, I was in a similar state. It puzzled me that he was merely amusing himself, not in the way that others might but out of an understandable curiosity. 

It was as if he was rehearsing hearsay.

"I'd heard…" He continued. "That motherfuckers've been itching at the chance to throw a shot at you… yet the moment they finally follow through, you— or Goliath knocks them the fuck back to reality. That's all the context I've got on ya. Rumors spread in Butcher Cross so much faster than anywhere else cuz the "winners" are always digging for dirt on one another. I just happened to be in the crossfire."

"Are you saying you don't know?" I asked.

"Know what?" He questioned, perplexed. "Like I told you, I've got minimal context to your situation. It was a joke-- didn't mean to bother ya like I did."

Hearing that, I felt my guard ease, my mouth moving as if from reflex. It was refreshing, seeing that he, for the most part, didn't care about that title— he couldn't be bothered in the slightest.

"Nicky Nova— or Nixinoon." I muttered. "That's who I want you to look into."

He peeped at me before reopening his laptop, logging in and typing away at those keys.

"That's a juicy one." He smiled, half-laughing.

"How so?" I asked.

"When the hottest whore in Butcher Cross disappears, some cumstain's gonna go unhappy."

"She was dating my friend, Baun Halm." I said, confidently. "What're you saying?"

"I hate to, but I'm saying that Mr. Baun Halm was this bitch's accessory." Fuckbelt claimed. "She's been tooling suck-ups for years, even back at my old school."

I could feel my face muscles tighten, but I pressed on. We wouldn't get anywhere if I kept hanging onto every piece of unsavory information. 

"Old school?" I pressed between that exhausted sigh.

"Dexter Chase— private school in a whole other city." He elaborated. "She'd been fucking around since we were kids, Grinner. Didn't matter where on the ladder you fell, from winner to loser, she'd be down that messy, fucked up alley."

"You're talking— like when we were kids?" I reassured myself, disgusted. "She's been around Dutchman for— at least… seven-so years."

"Hell yeah…" He shook his head, as if in a confident disbelief, himself.

The strength in his voice collapsed with an emphasis, and it seemed like the both of us were trying to truly wrap our heads around it for that moment. But, he eventually diverted the conversation back on track, fixing the digression.

"So… what'd you wanna know that I can't just straight-up tell ya." He turned his attention to the laptop once more. "If it's written in code, I can fish it up for ya… She's a fucked up one, and from speaking with ya, I'm assuming you're not just feeling a little blue-balled. I gather you want some revenge."

I clenched my fist.

"Yeah…" I took a deep breath, in and out. "I wanna know where the fuck she ended up. She's gotta be in school, someplace in or near Dutchman."

Law in Dutchman is that kids've gotta go to school... Unless Nicky and her money've found some way to clean drop out... If it were that scenario, there'd likely be no means to track her down. With her money, she'd be already out of state, lounging in some vacation home or some shit.

Just thinking about her sitting pretty pisses me off.

"Sounds easy enough..." He rolled his shoulders, sighing. "Let's see how she plays."

With that, Fuckbelt began slapping at the keys with unknown speed. Surfing from site to site, I felt as if I couldn't catch up with whatever was inside that brain of his, but eventually, he stuck with one, SAI Media, the social media site where most "found footage" shit ended up.

It was more akin to an occult site, barely legal, with grungy, often horrible videos surfacing. I had the app, but it was like a forgotten well, discarded yet so undeniably potent in its presence. I could only imagine what might've brought Fuckbelt to stop on this site of all places.

"What're you doing?" I asked confused.

"After digging through all her profiles, this is the only one with any sort of "My-Eyes-Only" feature. Anything outside of plain sight is outside of my league when it comes to the others." Fuckbelt admitted. "If I dig through her SAI profile, I could be able to get access to not only her "My-Eyes-Only", but there's a possibility that I can sift through her camera roll, assuming it's connected."

"Holy shit." I mouthed, impressed.

"I know, right?" Fuckbelt continued typing, cracking his neck. "But don't get too excited; it's only a chance. She could've thought this escape of hers through more than I'd think possible."

"No way." I assured, half-confident. "She's a dumbass broad."

"That's what I'd love to think, but it's taking an awful amount of time to fish this shit out… this might just be her failsafe."

He continued to type in silence, and I let him be, attempting to read what I could. However, the majority made no sense to me, causing that attention to be short-lived. My eyes wandered, and with the ease of tension within my head, I noticed that were were damn-near sitting in darkness. I can't imagine it'd be much brighter at the cliff where everyone else lie in wait for us.

His clacking stopped abruptly, the screen before him filled with indiscernible code, at least to me. Yet, his eyes remained trained on the screen, eluding my sight. 

"You've got me curious…" Fuckbelt uttered, seeming almost preemptive. "What did she do to you, THE "Goliath" Grinner."

That swift defense was nearly instantly put back into affect, squashing the attempt.

"You can stop calling me that..." I warned. "...didn't you just get through saying it didn't matter?"

He raised his hands, backing away.

"You're right-- none of my business." He chuckled a bit.

He went back to typing for a short while, and when he'd stopped, a smile crept along his face.

"Hehe, dumb bitch." Fuckbelt whispered cockily. "Eat shit..."

"You got something?" I asked, my eyes racing along the screen for something coherent.

"A whole goddamn library's worth." He smirked. "Just gotta download it to the computer, and… voila. She's been read. I might even get access to every single photo she takes from here on."

"Really?!"

"Nah, but that'd be funny wouldn't it." He teased. "We'd be printing material to fuck up this rich bitch's life. Maybe behind all the pussies and junk, we'll find our goldmine."

Fuckbelt closed his laptop, standing. As I looked up toward him, I couldn't even make out the features of his face, as his head lie shrouded in the shadow of the great oak tree. 

"It's getting a little too dark." He groaned, stretching. "Once I compile all this bullshit, I'll contact ya. Then, you can do whatever the hell with what I fish."

"Alright…" I began standing, reaching into my pocket. "Here's my num—"

He pushed my hand away, opting to help me up instead.

"No need for numbers." He assured me. "Trust me. We'll be in touch."

He cradled his laptop underneath his arm, turning toward the forest entrance we'd come from.

"C'mon." He urged. "They might've already starved dead by now."