Two sides of a coin

Crowley, Crowley, Crowley. Sketches of the man were left in many pages of Story's sketchbook. It was the night after they left the bar did the girl finally recall that name uttered by one of the headhunters whom had saved her. Many questions had derived since then. Why was a headhunter looking for Crowley in a pier garage full of thugs? She still have yet to figure out the identity of said thugs till date, but they weren't vampires, at least. And that night at the bar, why did Crowley approach her? And what he said even suggested of his knowledge towards what they had done in regards to the involvement of a highly obscure demonic ritual. Exactly who or what is Crowley? It wasn't like she could just look that name up on the local phone directory, and as of that moment she was that close to simply pass the sketch she had drawn around, the sketch she made to perfect details via her memory projection pen. The reason she had yet to do so was that ominous feeling, the kind that made her shiver like a cold spot down her spine. She felt that if she were to tell anyone unrelated about that man, very bad things would befall her. Perhaps this was one of what Nial had claimed to be a journalist's instincts? After all, the civilian reporters of truth carries no heavy firearms, but they needed something to protect themselves with. Instincts, experiences, hunch or luck, different terms have been used but they all boil down to that knack of avoiding danger and harm to oneself. And thus with the clues so limited, Story began to focus on tinkering with her gadgets to pass the time whenever she wasn't working on an article.

Katy Perry began playing on her phone. It did not came as a surprise even though it was supposedly her day off due to the nature of her work, but when she looked at the numbers on the screen, the femina froze. six-six-six. Taking in a deep breath, Story considered it possibly being some form of prank done by bored tech-wizards or magicians, though not ruling out the chance that it could be an evil being that would curse or possess her the moment she picked up. But then again, if she were to pussyfoot between every opportunity, she would probably never get the story she desires. The best story in the world as she so claimed. Calming herself, the girl pushed the answer button and put the receiver to her ear, only to be welcomed with the mature, husky voice that had been haunting her memories since that day. "Hello, darling. Care to meet up? I'll be waiting with a cup of blue mountain. Oh and come alone if you don't mind. After all, it's a date". The phone hung up. Story did not know whether to be overjoyed or appalled, but she was definitely crept out. The voice undoubtedly belonged to Crowley, but how did he get her number? On top of that, when he mentioned blue mountain, she could only think of the cafe lounge merged with a book rental store where she would spend her weekend afternoons reading with a side of that very drink. Story wouldn't have been surprised if Nial or someone close to her knew about it, but a complete stranger? That was blood-curdling.

D-ling-ding. The bells hung over the door of the shop to announce guest arrival and departure was as welcoming as ever. Clutching her bag, the woman in her plain clothes of light violet collared blouse and baby blue ali-baba pants walked in, immediately greeted by the shop owner with whom she had established relation to a first name basis due to her repeated visit. "Hey Story! The usual for you? " The femina responded to the shop owner's enthusiasm with a nod and smile. "Yes, Patrick. Thank you". She then moved to her usual table where the gentleman in black was already waiting as promised, and with a cup of blue mountain, no less. "Mister Crowley? " Story inquired, uncertainty in her tone not because she wasn't sure it was him, but rather because she wasn't sure if she should have showed up. "Have a sit, honey buns". The man gestured without turning his head. He took a sip of his black drink as Story sat, giving a contented sigh. "A resplendent choice of drink. Though it isn't the highest quality in terms of beans or the most proficient technique, the ambiance does make up for it. It does bring out the lively taste, doesn't it? " The purplette wasn't sure if the man was jesting, being serious or just randomly commenting to break the ice. Sure she loved the unique taste of the shop's blue mountain with an added flavor of dark chocolate, and certainly she did love being in a place surrounded by books, yet even for her, she knew that such an idea wasn't the best and only managed to get returning customers because it was cleverly located beside the library, a place where bookworms gather. "Indeed it does". The purplette offered the man a smile, the burning desire to ask him how he knew so much about her was suppressed to hide her insecurities and worries from this complete stranger. "Sometimes, when I go through an exciting book and forget to breathe, a cup would calm my nerves. Other times, when I enjoy a good romance literature, having coffee beside betters the ambiance". By that time, her usual order of blue mountain had arrived with a side of white Belgium chocolate seated upon thin foil so as not to dirty her hands or the table, just the way she remembered and adored. "Friend of yours?" Asked Patrick as he tucked his tray away. Before Story could speak, Crowley had answered "Oh we're in a much more complicated relationship than that". The gentleman gave a cheeky wink to the purplette, who had to inhale with her eyes closed to tolerate that nonsense and corrected "We're just acquaintances. Patrick, Crowley. Crowley, Patrick". Story introduced both men to each other along with hand gestures. The smile Story flashed was almost flawlessly delivered with professionalism, but as one who could read ambiances, the store owner understood it really wasn't that simple, but as an outsider he found it rude to pry. " Hello, Mr. Crowley. Well, I'll leave you guys then. Call me if you need anything". "Will do". Crowley and Patrick gave each other a courteous smile and nod, both concealing their inner thoughts as the shopkeeper walked away. "Now, where were we? " Crowley started after the duo regained privacy. "Ah yes, books. I'm more of a horror fan myself. Have you read 'The Exorcist' by William Peter Blatty? " The femina nods. "Mhm, it's really popular for being one of the scariest horror stories. The way it was delivered really tingled my nerves, and I love how it was inspired by a true story". When it comes to book talks, Story could go on forever and inevitably let her guard down. And that was exactly what Crowley wanted. "Really? It came as a surprise to me that you would enjoy the fact that a book with a bad ending is based on true events". Immediately, without even needing time to stop and think, Story responded "Bad or not, the book is still a masterpiece! I admit those who had to go through the events must have been scarred for life, but without it, there wouldn't be such a perfect work of art!" The excited girl was raising her pitch, and that only proved to serve the gentleman's purpose better. "Well then, if say you were to experience something really out of the ordinary, do you think you can write a story as well as 'The Exorcist'? " "Eh? " The entire notion caught her off guard. While it was true that it had been her very dream to do exactly just that, having that mentioned by a person she barely knew was still surreal enough to make her stop and think. Yet before she could answer properly, Crowley leaned forward and advertised his product even more, pushing that idea to his potential customer with the aggressiveness of a successful businessman. "I am proposing a golden ticket for you to visit the chocolate factory". A note was in his hand, clasped between two digits. Story of course understood the reference, and that piece of paper she was staring at was about as tempting as the forbidden fruit of knowledge itself. She swallowed hard, not knowing what to do or even what questions to ask. For that one final thrust, Crowley said "This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Give it up, and there won't be another". The sales tactic was almost blatantly obvious, but it hit so close to home that Story was eventually left with no other choice than to reach out with wariness and trepidation, pinching the note betwixt thumb and index and taking it. "Well then," Crowley grinned, standing up and tugging his coat straight before slipping both hands into his pants' pockets "I wish you the best of luck, honey buns. Do come back with the best book you've ever written, I'll be your biggest fan". After offering a cheeky wink, the man left the shop.

Story stared at the folded piece of paper in her hand, silent for the most. After taking a big gulp of her coffee, Story finally found the courage to unfold the paper and read. Six numbers on top and six below. If she had to make a wild guess, those were coordinates.    


Sc:104
Wtsc:104

"Well, that's settled for our next article. Can't believe we actually did it so much ahead of time". Nial stretched his worn out body from that eight hour writing marathon, pulling a series of crackling noises and sighed in content before biting a cigarette, but not lighting it as they were indoors. The norm for Nial was to get a smoke outside to celebrate completion of a task, but this time he stayed in and watched Story as she quietly took a sip of her already cooled cocoa. "Spill". Nial said only one word and it got the purplette's attention, who immediately lifted her cup and looked around her lap and the floor. No spills. Her head then turned to her partner with a slight inquisitive look. "I don't mean that. I've worked with you long enough to know when something is troubling your mind. And with the recent events you know I'm not going to guess it's boyfriend problems. So what is it? " Nial's devilishly accurate intuition sometimes scares Story. It was like he could read her mind... but if he could, she wouldn't be surprised. The femina placed the cold porcelain cup gingerly on her work desk, folded her hands on her lap and lowered her gaze, pondering what to tell Nial and what not to while the listener waited patiently. After a moderately reasonable amount of consideration, Story lifted her gaze, inhaled with her eyes closed and exhaled before unveiling her eyes along with her thoughts. "I'll be going away for awhile". The fag betwixt Nial's lips fell due to the lack of hold as the man stared with rounded eyes at his partner in dubiety to what he had just heard. This time, it was Nial's turn to inhale with his curtains closed. After mirroring what Story did to collect her thoughts, Nial continued with his questions. "When, and for how long? " The femina pursed her lips, feeling the guilt eat into her but steeled herself because she had to explain at some point, and then was the time. "In a few days... No. This sunday. And I dn't know for how long I'll be gone". Nial Reached both his hands forward and grabbed Story by her arms. "Listen to yourself. You obviously decided to do this at the last minute and you have no idea what you will be getting yourself into. Are you really sure you are prepared for this? " Story had been around Nial for three years. The observant journalist had, thoughout this length of time, figured his partner's personality, hobbies, dreams, motivations and many other things, enough to accurately presume what she wanted to do within that short exchange. Story's gaze faltered for a moment, but quickly resolved into focus. "I've been waiting for this my whole life, Nial. My gut feeling tells me this is it". Nial knew that expression. It was one of determination, and he knew that there was no convincing his stubborn partner otherwise. Besides, how could he as a journalist tell his partner not to believe in her instincts? Defeated, he leaned back against his chair and suspired. "I'm not going to tell you not to do anything reckless, but do keep in mind that you're only human, okay? Remember the code of the journalist". Story nodded and recited what Nial had taught her since long ago. "We are observers. We watch from the sidelines and we do not get involved. We are the writers, we do not become the story". The girl offered Nial, her partner, her mentor and someone who had been watching over her since the day she stepped into society a comforting smile. "Don't worry Nial, I'll come back with the best story you've ever heard".

Sc: 48
Wtsc: 152