Chapter Seventeen: A Step into Family Central

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A year after becoming one of Ft. Knox’s Professionals, I was sent off to my advanced individual training nestled not year after becoming one of Ft. Knox’s Professionals, I
too far from Alexandria, Norfolk, Richmond and D.C. weeks before any other soldiers would arrive, to ensure my commanding officer had plenty of time to “work” with me.

In their greed for control, my military handlers attempted to combine different portions of my personality. A project often referred to as “selective integration,” it is their way of reforming or patterning once split personalities back together. They did not go about it with Brute force as The Families did but rather with advanced technologies and equipment. What they do is meddling with the body soul, and it is dangerous to do. I do not believe there is any way to return the mind to become “a whole soul” without the working of the Holy Spirit and surrendering to The Great Physician.

The programmers who do this work do so under the influence of another spirit. As they shoved these personalities together, I underwent tremendous amounts of pain, nosebleeds, nausea, and blackouts. Alone in those barracks, I fractured along their scored lines and then was stitched together with Soldiers’ personalities as well as Blade. The combination of these inner parts was crafted and woven into a new primary personality.

After the endless cycle of torment, training, and fieldwork were winding down, I was given a new identity, a new name. Two dog tags were given to me, and I became another man whose identity had been created long ago. I would from that day forward go by Jason. Fair warning now to the other so called J.A.S.O.N.S those quests for the Golden Fleece will not bring you redemption, restoration, and relief He alone can.

State Craft and Fieldwork tested me to my limits, and I soon realized that so many of the targets I was sent after were just like the ones my Family had sent me to eradicate. They were in many ways monsters, but they were just pawns. They were the surface level bait to keep the inner kings, queens, CEO’s, cardinals, and bishops safe. Time after time they would send me out, and I would return with their black books, harvested DNA, or whatever else my handlers wanted.

I had more autonomy within my Trade but I was becoming an Alpha wolf let out on a walk, my “master” holding his pistol ready should I ever turn their way. The dangers of letting the wolf out of his cage can cost much more than a life. The days would come when I would turn on them all and seek the dismantling of their empires of soil stained red from the blood of their victims.

While the weeks dragged on, I began to have my thoughts crowd out the programming. The more they worked me over, the deeper access I had to memories once separated from me. I began to experience bleed over or flooding, much like individuals with PTSD will have intrusive thoughts and flashbacks. These personalities carried with them memories of things my core personality had not known. I began to realize how many times my handlers had lied to me, and so
often the targets they selected were not my abusers, pedophiles, or traffickers but rather grudges, contract work, and ways to climb the pyramid of power. Black Dragons and those intelligence groups of old have insatiable appetites no man on fire can satisfy. I soon saw the truth that I’d been blind to for so many years of my life.

Within 18 months of my public enlistment, the tattered pieces of my patch quilt soul would unravel. I began to do the unthinkable. I started to remember. I began to think for myself, and I chose to disobey a master’s commands. The dangers of having an asset out of direct control are tremendous, so a decision was made.

Before they programmed me to end my own life, my dad made a wager against his only son. Ever eager to add to his bloody empire, my dad made sure to have me change my mother from the sole proprietor to my militaries half-million-dollar life insurance policy to himself. Just a few months later, I would be shot and stabbed multiple times, bleeding to death on the patio of one of their many houses. I would stare out over the cold mountain valley and watch my all too Familiar spirit come to harvest my perishing soul.

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