>>9381067Z1Matto sat hunched over his computer desk, his chubby fingers hovering over the keyboard as he scrolled through a particular person's Twitter account. His greasy, prematurely bald head glistened under the fluorescent light, and his beady eyes flickered back and forth across the screen as he searched for any material he could use to create a new troll thread on 4channel.
His phone buzzed with a text from a colleague inviting him to a "night out with the boys." Matto snorted in derision, dismissing the invitation with a lazy flick of his wrist. At 48 years old, he had devoted his life to his career, neglecting any attempts at forming personal relationships. He was short and stout, with a double chin that wobbled as he shook his head. His stained shirt strained at the buttons, and the faded sweatpants he wore clung to his round belly like a second skin.
Z1Matto didn't have a wife or children to occupy his time, so he spent his weekends scouring the web for people to antagonize. He relished the power he felt behind the safety of his computer screen, unleashing his vitriol upon anyone who dared to cross him. It was the only outlet he had, the only way he could feel any semblance of control in his otherwise meaningless existence.
