Attack booked two separate flights using two distinct identities. One from Indianapolis, to , the second from Frankfurt to Rome.
The plan was to make it untraceable. Jack didn't know what would happen when he finally met the Blue Man. What he did know was that he didn't want anyone else being able to know that he had gone and met the .
If this other man ended up killing him, then Jack would be okay with it. He had milked everything there was out of life, and he wasn't the type to stay alive for the sake of continuing to breathe without reason.
In Berlin he stayed at an in . The lighting was good so that the space was well lit even on that overcast day. He drank a coffee brewed by the Turkish bakery down the street. He kept trying to think by writing on paper. Whenever he thought by writing he noticed he would never meld with the other man. It was only when he thought in his head that sometimes they would fuse.
Jack kept writing and writing. Scribbling away. Always making sure to have enough sheets of paper at hand so that he could turn his thoughts into stained blots. When he went on walks out to get food or buy more paper and pen he could keep himself occupied enough by the stimuli that there was no melding with the man in Siciliy.
He ended up never going down to Frankfurt like planned. Ended up staying several weeks in Berlin where he created a mountain of covered papers. These could be a book, he thought. And as he thought this without writing it down in pen, he felt a pull. And suddenly he was back in the head of the other man.
He was in a boat on the sea.
The plan was to make it untraceable. Jack didn't know what would happen when he finally met the Blue Man. What he did know was that he didn't want anyone else being able to know that he had gone and met the .
If this other man ended up killing him, then Jack would be okay with it. He had milked everything there was out of life, and he wasn't the type to stay alive for the sake of continuing to breathe without reason.
In Berlin he stayed at an in . The lighting was good so that the space was well lit even on that overcast day. He drank a coffee brewed by the Turkish bakery down the street. He kept trying to think by writing on paper. Whenever he thought by writing he noticed he would never meld with the other man. It was only when he thought in his head that sometimes they would fuse.
Jack kept writing and writing. Scribbling away. Always making sure to have enough sheets of paper at hand so that he could turn his thoughts into stained blots. When he went on walks out to get food or buy more paper and pen he could keep himself occupied enough by the stimuli that there was no melding with the man in Siciliy.
He ended up never going down to Frankfurt like planned. Ended up staying several weeks in Berlin where he created a mountain of covered papers. These could be a book, he thought. And as he thought this without writing it down in pen, he felt a pull. And suddenly he was back in the head of the other man.
He was in a boat on the sea.