Taxi was the key. If there was any way the three men would have reached Well’s hotel room, it was the taxi cab.As they jumped into the car, the only thing that occupied every single spaces in their minds was the blog. The fucking blog. Ho they will right the blog; who will make the blog; hat means would they need to generate the blog; how essential was the blog to their plans; and how to put the blog into great publicity where in everyone would notice it once it was done. Overall, although it might have sounded like an easy plan, it was actually a very difficult one to be executed. Ten minutes in the taxi and finally, one of them decided to open up a topic so the atmosphere inside the taxi cab would ease up and silence would be replaced with words. But before anything else, before Well decided to commnce such conversation, he whispered something in the ears of Binsent Anchorman first.“Is it okay to talk about the Noodle Bar’s alleged issue here in the car even if there is someone el

“What do you mean keep yourself out of the situation? Were you there during when the mass killing of the journalists happened?” Allen Mar asked. There was something that tried to hold back his voice for a second, but at the same time, his will to know things was stronger than any doubts and hesitations that was why he was able to push his words through. “I was not just there to witness how it happened. I was part of it. I was one of those dispatcher who was paid by the government to kill those journalists. It was not an easy job. Killing was never in my agenda. It was never in my to-do list. However, for the sake of money, and for the sake of helping the community getting rid of the pests trying to change the molding of the society, I took part in killing the journalists,” the taxi cab driver continued to explain. “I was a fucking sociopath that time. I was a selfish money-driven dispatcher that all I thought was cash and credit from the government. But despite being it, though, I can

“Okay, you guys, snack is ready!” Allen Mar yelled from the kitchen, as he went out of the kitchen door slowly and carefully, bringing with him a platter of his own version of carbonara. As soon as he arrived at the table where two mouths to feed had been waiting for him to put down the food, he slowly lowered his arm and placed the platter down the table. He went back to the kitchen for a quick moment, and then warned the boys not to start yet because he still had to get the pitcher containing an iced tea. When he returned, he had the pitcher with him along with the three drinking glasses.“That smells so nice, to be honest,” Binsent Anchorman said as he suddenly broke free from what he was doing to focus all his senses to the food being laid down in front of them. “I was not expecting that kind of aroma from a carbonara, actually. And what is that strong, earthly smell? Is that rosemary herb?” he asked.“Actually, that is oregano. Though I can’t blame you about mistaking it because

“Go on. Say it. What is it? What is the question that came into your mind?” Well said, unbothered. His tone was friendly, but his voice was nothing but a plain monotone that showed no interest at all. He was as if just listening but did not care. “The question is-- my concern-- ‘What if they trace the data of these people and figure out that they do not exist? What if they will realize that these are nothing but just mere made-up names used to unveil something that needs unveiling?’” Binsent Anchorman spoke. He got goosebumps. He was the one who said the question but at the same time he was also the one who got goosebumps. He could not contain it. Just thinking of it alone already made him quiver in fear. May God forbid, but if ever it would happen, they will surely be in trouble. The case would be countered against them, the table would turn around, and the one who will be put in a terrible situation willl be them instead of the restaurant they were trying to take down. “It will ta

The sound of the alarm clock-- a long ringing accompanied with a disturbing vibration-- shook the sleeping world of Well Smith. It had only been five o’clock in the morning, but he was already feeling the possible tiredness that would come after the entire day of engagements to different people, and things, and events, and the aftermath of every wrong decisions he was going to make for the day. He woke up from his bed, rolled down his blanket until it reached his toes, and then stretched his body. He felt his bones cracking and his cartillages popping up like they were mere twigs that fell off of a huge tree in the middle of the forest.He went directly to his table-- the first thing he did when he got up. His laptop was still there, folded and closed, and alongside it was his cellphone charging-- it was already full battery when he checked it. He unpplugged the wire from the socket, and the phone from the charger. He received more than nine hundred ninety nine notifications just with