Daniel fiddled with his fingers onto the keyboard flashed on his cellphone’s screen and it vibrated so loud that Well could already tell how fast did he type. As a matter of fact, Well could not keep up with the pace of Daniel's fingertips. His eyes tried to catch a glimpse of the message he worked out with but the only thing he saw was the sent button. The message had been delivered to the receiver. It would not take long before a reply coming from someone inside the bar would shoot back to Daniel. The two guys waited for some time, until after a good minute or two, the phone vibrated. A soft hushing wind swept through the mammoth crowd, just at the same time the cellphone lit up. You received a message from Bryan, the notification tab said to Daniel. He opened it, slowly rotating to the left, opposite Well, trying his best not to show him the message. "He got it," Daniel informed him. "He read the message and told me he is fine with it. He just needs some description. Like I told
The two guys, Well and Daniel, busted the door and crashed at the bar with their not-so-pleasing outfits. As soon as they got inside, all of the eyes automatically got attracted to the both of them, and it only took for about four seconds of standing on the same spot, just a few steps next to the door mat, before all the spotlights and disco lasers focused on the two of them. Now, literally speaking, everyone’s and everything’s attention was on them. For Well, it was some sort of a nightmare that caused to trigger his social anxieties even more. However, on the other hand, for Daniel, it was just another normal exposure. Because he was a darling of the crowd, being the center of interest of everyone was nothing new to him anymore. So instead of worrying and trembling and feeling the churning of his stomach just like what Well had felt exactly, he only stood there and smile to everyone. . . and everything, if it made sense. Daniel straightened his back and he felt the bones on his spi
"Where should we begin looking at?" That was the first question Well had asked for Daniel. At this point in the night, he was running out of time already and he felt like every single tick of the clock would count. It's eleven. Turning twelve. If would not see either of his cellphone and his friend Joross, it would be over for Well. He would have left himself with no choice but to accept the unacceptable truth and try his luck again when the morning would arrive. But he could not wait for mornings. Just like what Daniel, his only company, had said, as long as they still had the energy to continue searching, they will continue searching. And that guts, that eagerness that drove them both to continue, brought them to the other half of the bar. The one that was strictly prohibited to people. The one that only a few and selected persons were allowed to go inside. No one was ever given the permission to peek— let alone to sneak in. "The place is full of warning signs and danger placards
Daniel became the mastermind of the plan and the executioner, while Well became the watchdog. IT was still doubtful to say if Well really had a contribution to this plan of Bryan, but since being a watchdog sounded fine and helpful, he would rather call himself that way. While Daniel slowly lifted his hand closer to the door knob, Well moved away from the warehouse and sneaked to the nearest tree. From there, he checked if there were people nearby that could potentially see them doing something suspicious and something suspicious and something that was absolutely not allowed. When Well cleared it that no one was around, he signalled Daniel by raising a thumb in the air, shooting it into his direction. Daniel slowly broke the padlock open and then carefully removed it from the surface. He threw it inside his left pocket for easier access later on. Before he decided to open the door entirely, he called for Well’s attention and waited for him to come over. “I have a bad feeling about t
Daniel suggested that perhaps Well and him should begin looking through all the stuff found inside the warehouse and maybe only until then they would end up getting a clue that would help them grasp a grain of Joross's whereabouts. On the other hand, Well, who was on the broom box at the backmost part of the room, was hoping that he would see his phone in there. But that could not be possible. Well had never entered the warehouse before so the phone should not be able to get in here. But Well was doubtful. Always. And as much as an overthinker he was, he also already told himself that maybe his phone had been stolen by someone from the bar. But, why would they do it anyway? Who would be so ingested in stealing his cell phone when other than the brand itself, nothing else was interesting about that? There were no games, not much application, and it's only purpose for Well was it was his mode of communication whenever he wanted to talk to his Mom and Dad, and the alarm clock. Well was
Daniel was on the other side of the room, parallel to where Well was. Unlike Well, he was not done looking for clues yet. He examined the stationary table with his fingers. There were random things that he touched. Without the guidance coming from the torch light of his phone, he could barely even tell what those stuff were. He lit up the torch light and focused it on the table. When the light shone through the surface of the table, everything became clear. There were pens, pencils, a couple of sticky notes, crumpled colored papers, and there were also used and unused red candles that felt out of place because considering the rest of the things on the table, they were all school supplies. Candles weren't considered the same, right? It definitely did not belong there. But why were they there? “Okay, first of all, this is the weirdest thing I have seen for today?” Daniel said as he stepped his feet two leaps away from the table brimming with stuff that did not make any sense. “What is
Coach Sonashi has decided to let me leave early so that I could rest and prepare for a harder day tomorrow. Even up until now, I still find it very hard to believe that I actually made it to the coaching staff of the school's basketball varsity team. Although the role that I have right now is no similar to the role that I have before (which is an ace player and an MVP), I am still feeling grateful and positively motivated because, who wouldn't be proud representing and supporting his school for the last time, huh? Louis Peters and I are now on our way out of the school's sports stadium. I ask him if where he is going next and he said that he might actually just go straight to his apartment because he is so tired and he is going to call it a day. So, with that being said, I have no choice but to go home as well since it's already four o'clock in the afternoon. I reckon the basketball practice will finish anywhere between five o'clock to six o'clock, and that is according to the time f
It has already been a week since the viral photo of me and Louis Peters has wrecked the internet and now I am very much rather thankful because finally, the waves have calmed down. We can now walk through the corridors and hallways without being talked about, we can now eat snacks in the cafeteria peacefully without being pressured to answer their daring yet nuisance question, and we can now freely browse our I*******m feeds without seeing our faces edited out into a 'Rumour has it' kind of stuff where on the caption would often contain about crazy speculations and rumours about him and me. But what is crazier than that though is the fact that some people have actually told Louis Peters and I that we should court each other. I mean, if that is not some sort of a hypothetical embarrassment, then I don't know what is. Okay so for the record, the line up for the school's basketball team has already been finalised last Friday and today, Monday, is going to be the first official training
“Nowadays, it is not only tangible things that are stolen. Culprits and stalkers like them are often sent out in the world to steal impossible things like information and codes. I believe that is the thing that keeps them from running after us. Because if it is only a material thing, they could have stolen it long before already. But it’s different. They are needing a piece of information, and only the best of the best spies and culprits can do it. Only those who are willing to risk their lives and last breath only to get their ears closer to the information that their bosses need,” Binsent Anchorman explained. “Okay, okay. Hold on, why are we here again? Because, technically, since I am now an official member of the alliance, am I not right to know the basics of this group? Like, what are we working for? And who? And why? And basically all the questions you think I need the answer from?” Arjay chimed in, standing by the end of the bleacher together with Allen Mar. Even up until this
Binsent Anchorman, together with Well, Arjay, and Allen Mar gathered all together onto the bleachers that were lining up outside of the church. “It has come to my attention that you are being followed. Now that we are here, somewhere that is least expected by the people to see us being gathered, I doubt if stalkers will still come after us,” Binsent Anchorman said as he laid down his suitcase on the ground. He was the first among them four to sit on the bleachers. This time, he was wearing a funny, little hat that did not match his tuxedo outfit at all. However, one thing that Allen Mar and Well could assure was that, in that outfit, he looked like their late friend, his twin brother, Detective Deib Anchorman. Well slouched down next to Binsent Anchorman; his eyes had been wondering around as if they were two little footage cameras scanning for possible threats around them. “I am now starting to question our presence in this city. Us being stalked remains a mystery to me. But one th
Binsent Anchorman, together with Well, Arjay, and Allen Mar gathered all together onto the bleachers that were lining up outside of the church. “It has come to my attention that you are being followed. Now that we are here, somewhere that is least expected by the people to see us being gathered, I doubt if stalkers will still come after us,” Binsent Anchorman said as he laid down his suitcase on the ground. He was the first among them four to sit on the bleachers. This time, he was wearing a funny, little hat that did not match his tuxedo outfit at all. However, one thing that Allen Mar and Well could assure was that, in that outfit, he looked like their late friend, his twin brother, Detective Deib Anchorman. Well slouched down next to Binsent Anchorman; his eyes had been wondering around as if they were two little footage cameras scanning for possible threats around them. “I am now starting to question our presence in this city. Us being stalked remains a mystery to me. But one t
In the taxi, nothing much had happened other than a small conversation involving Well, Binset Anchorman, and some interesting and trivial things about the late Detective Deib Anchorman, his twin brother. It was surely a wholesome moment. It was surely a wholesome conversation. But if not for the fact that Well was the one that initiated the conversation, none of those would have ever existed. “I only met Detective Deib Anchorman for like a couple of days,” Well started two minutes just when the engine started. “And just like you, he started as a taxicab driver, too. I met him when I asked for a taxi who can send me to the nearest ATM station because I just lost my phone and I needed to buy something. He was the one who accompanied me to the Octagon Shop where I was able to find myself a new phone. He was a good man, indeed. I don’t think if I have said this earlier, but this is something that I was not able to tell him. I was too selfish to even inform him how good of a man he was,” We
Just when Well arrived at the ground floor, he noticed some coalition of people not far from where he was standing. Intrigued by the on going noises, he went to see what was happening over there. After a few more meters of walking, he finally figured out what that mess was all about. Simple. It was primarily because over there was a food hall and the reason why he could hear metals banging against each other was because they were spoons and forks, and noisy people who were trying to satisfy themselves with the food that they eat. Apparently, it triggered the growling of Well’s stomach. All of a sudden, he wanted to dive into the line too to get himself something to feed for his angry tummy. Convinced that there was no time for his social anxieties anymore, he absentmindedly fell in line. He tucked his wallet out of his pants’ left pocket and draw out his credit card. Finally, he could eat now. It took him roughly ten to fifteen minutes to finally make it to the counter. There, he ord
With both of his hands clasping against each other, Well shot a gaze through the busy hallway. He saw nurses in the rush, assistants going back and forth and to and from different rooms, doctors running with their shoelaces untangled, and other more disturbing and unusual things for Well but were considered normal and part of the routine in any hospitals. Well decided to go for a stroll outside the hospital and find something to eat. He had not eaten anything since lunch time, and he barely even finished his food back in the tavern because of Allen Mar’s intuitive conversation with the bloke man about the three suspicious men in suit initiating a negotiation talk with the secret society’s leader. Time check, it was already ten minutes past seven in the evening. Around this time, Well should have had in his bed already– ready to sleep because tomorrow was going to be another day full of unwanted surprises– but here he was now, in the hospital, with someone he only knew less than ten hou
His nerves had never been feeling this tight. The flowing of blood all over his body had been insufficient, but the only thing he ever had in his mind was Allen Mar. He kept thinking of him. He kept thinking and thinking and thinking of him. Questions spun around his brain; ‘How was the operation?’ ‘Will he be okay?’ ‘Will he survive?’ ‘What are the odds of him dying?’ ‘Was the doctor not joking when he said that Allen Mar’s injury was serious and could even bring up his death if certain actions had not been taken immediately?’ With both of his hands clasping against each other, Well shot a gaze through the busy hallway. He saw nurses in the rush, assistants going back and forth and to and from different rooms, doctors running with their shoelaces untangled, and other more disturbing and unusual things for Well but were considered normal and part of the routine in any hospitals. Fully convinced that the operation will take longer than expected, Well decided to go for a stroll outside
Detective Deib Anchorman was the first to make it close to the manhole. When he got there, he drew his ear closer to the ground floor. “I don’t hear anything,” he said after five seconds of focusing all his hearing senses on the ground. “I am supposed to be hearing footsteps and cranking guns and indistinct chatters coming from the soldiers, but I don’t hear anything right now. “Is that supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing?” Well asked, his heart had been pounding so fast and so strong it was no different compared to a jack hammer used in smacking a hardened soil. Allen Mar chimed into the conversation and then corrected Well, “It is supposed to be a good thing, I believe. The detective not hearing anything from above only means that the soldiers have not returned from the search yet. That means we will have enough time to make it out here and perhaps even out of the vicinity as well. Although the latter would be so dangerous, and I don’t think our chances of success are that
Different scenarios had been playing in his head to the extent that he was lost already and could not distinguish the reality from the hallucinations. Hope had been the only chance he had. And although his abdomen churned in fear, and the back of his neck had been filled with goosebumps, Well only braved the situation and sat on one of the chairs at the waiting area, believing in his friend, Allen Mar that he would survive the operation no matter what. Prayers came out of his lips unconsciously without him knowing it. Fully convinced that the operation will take longer than expected, Well decided to go for a stroll outside the hospital and find something to eat. He had not eaten anything since lunch time, and he barely even finished his food back in the tavern because of Allen Mar’s intuitive conversation with the bloke man about the three suspicious men in suit initiating a negotiation talk with the secret society’s leader. Time check, it was already ten minutes past seven in the ev