Prologue

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We're seven wolves, gathering the lambs with a trap
We pull through all the broken rap from now on
We keep driving forward, giants on the beats...
BTS, Cypher Pt. 2 Triptych

The man, now in his late forties, has no choice but to burn his precious notebooks and manuscripts so that there would be no physical evidence left behind. He gingerly places them in a large metal bin and throws a lit match in. His glasses reflect the fire engulfing its fuel.

He goes back into his house and into the study which overlooks the garden. He sits hunched over his keyboard, frantically typing in everything that he can remember. It is about two hours before the fire eventually dies down to the occasional crackle, during which time he hasn't moved from the study where the light to be seen is from his computer screen which casts a bright glow over his face. He occasionally looks over the screen into his garden with bated breath to check for any unwanted visitors, human or feral. He sighs in relief every time he sees nothing and continues to type. It takes a further two hours of continuous typing before he's done. He immediately makes sure everything is saved on the cloud before destroying his hard drive by downloading a virus into it. To further render it useless, he then takes the infected drive and walks into the garden, adding it to the rekindled fire. He waits until both metal and plastic parts of the drive have completely lost their original forms before making his way back inside.

He does a final check on his laptop to make sure all its contents have been erased before closing it; taking it with him as he leaves the study. He picks up his rucksack which is waiting for him in the landing and turns off all the lights before leaving through his front door. He sighs again as he thinks of what he has to leave behind, but doesn't give a look back once he locks the door behind him. He hails a cab and makes the short journey to the airport; International Departures.

He arrives without incident, feeling fairly certain that he hasn't been followed. He doesn't need to check-in and his rucksack can be carried on board. He goes through the usual security checks with no fuss and, an hour after leaving home, he is now sitting at the Departure Gate 51 waiting area. He's almost on the home straight and allows himself to relax a little, reading the day's broadsheet. His eyes dart up from the paper every now and then to check for suspicious activity, of which there is none.

He gets up eagerly when he hears the announcement for first and business class passengers. He grabs his bag and makes the short walk to the business class section, finds his seat, and settles in for the 7 hour flight. The rest of the passengers bustle in and he is somewhat surprised that nobody has yet occupied the seat next to him as the pilot announces that they will be departing in fifteen minutes.

He makes himself more comfortable, ensures his seatbelt is visible for checking and starts browsing through the in-flight entertainment. He is so engrossed in reading about the current blockbusters that he almost jumps when someone suddenly sits next to him. His neighbour hurriedly puts his seatbelt on, looks at him and gives him a knowing smile.

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