microfiction: Troll Hunters

Expecting a pizza, Kip Wilkins opened his front door. A gloved hand shoved at his chest and pushed him out of the way as two ninjalike figures slipped into the house and shut the door behind them. The taller of the two pulled off her mask and flashed a triumphant grin as she scanned the computer equipment stacked around and on the desk in the middle of the living room.

"What are you doing here? Get out of my house!" Kip cried.

"Certainly not," said the shorter figure, his voice menacingly muffled through the mask he still wore. "We're here for you, Mr. Troll. Mr. Kip 'The Troll' Wilkins. Or should I call you 'Juniperberry62'? Or perhaps 'Kewpie_Krusher'?"

"I'm no Troll! Sorry, but" --he waved his hand -- "this is not the house you're looking for. Go away." he whined.

"We're not going anywhere until your capacity to Troll has been neutralized," said the smaller ninja, pulling things out of his backpack. Kip recognized a pair of wire-cutters, a screwdriver, and an electromagnet. A big electromagnet. "You have fanned your last flamewar, Mister. You tried to hide your trail, but your IP address ultimately gave you away."

"Y, y, you can't prove anything!" Kip stuttered, his pale cheeks suddenly flushed. "The network providers don't release that information!"

"No need for that," said the taller member of the Troll Hunter team. She opened her jacket to pull an arcwelder out of an inside pocket, revealing the network logo on the shirt underneath. "The network's End User License Agreement clearly states that any user definitively caught trolling relinquishes all rights to computer equipment connected to the network in any way, and is further disbarred from ever connecting to the network again under any identity. Another unit will enforce the latter. We're just N UR HAUS, BREKKIN UR COMPOOTERZ!"

She shook her head. "Didn't think you needed to read that EULA, did you? People never do."

And with that, they got to work.