"Stratigic was the plot that hurt so many and scared our nation for all eternity"
Their's more going on in our country than you know (?)
To order yourself a copy of this telling probable and possible tale, access:
An excerpt from 'Chapter 19' of the project
Conspirator’s Odyssey
The Evolution of the Patron Saint
3:18 p.m.—June 24, 2003— Gecko Bravo Compound:
Ingro, Tips, Numan, Hilton, Yo Klan, and Vernan strolled into Damion Walker’s office. Walker stood at his window, gazing into the distance while smoking a cigarette and playing with his silver Zippo. The team quietly took seats at the round table.
“Ingro, you have news for me?” Walker asked.
Ingro responded with a drawn-out sigh. “Sir, our hunch was right in deciding to initiate a thorough background check on all those people who were obsessed with the UFO stuff. We logged more than six thousand names, but two stood out like sore thumbs, because these two people didn’t have any history prior to five-plus years ago. We found them living in a secluded wooded district on the outskirts of New York City. George Watson and Trina Oskins.”
Ingro glanced around the table. “We found that about five years ago, Trina had a home built on this land. We also discovered that neither she nor Mr. Watson ever had a bank account or anything else that would tie a penny to their names. This led us to believe they were in hiding, using cash in every transaction to avoid leaving a paper trail. It’s as if they just appeared one day from nowhere, living high on the hog. No neighbors within ten miles of their residence, and no friends. We attempted to establish some kind of paper trail, but there were no electrical bills, no telephone, nothing. They didn’t pay for water service, TV, or anything else normal people use. It was as if they’d gone to extremes to hide.”
Walker, now attentive, walked toward the table and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray before taking a seat. “Go on.” He tapped his Zippo against the tabletop.
Agent Ingro sighed again. “As we checked further, we learned General Thimpkin once owned the land, under the name of his late father—four-star General Henry C. Thimpkin. This land has been in the Thimpkin family for generations.”
The tapping of Walker’s Zippo grew louder when Ingro mentioned General Thimpkin.
“Thimpkin lived on this land a long time; before he had his home demolished. The thing that got us was, General Thimpkin signed over the land to this Trina Oskins.”
Pausing, Ingro took a deep breath and dabbed sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. “There was only one lead. They had a nurse who told us she was there taking care of a coma victim for five years. She also informed us that seven to nine months ago her patient recovered, so she no longer worked at the residence.
“In our interrogation, we got out of her that after five years, she really didn’t know anything about Trina Oskins or George Watson. We sent the nurse back to their residence, possibly to get us in there. She was hysterical and destroyed that chance for us. We did get a shot of this supposed Trina Oskins as she opened the door and yanked the nurse inside.”
Ingro signaled for Agent Tips to pass the series of photos they’d taken at the doorway. Tips placed the photos in front of Walker, who studied them before glaring at Agent Ingro.
“It’s Captain Kalista Flaker,” Ingro said.
The room was so quiet they could’ve heard hair drop. After a long drawnout breath, Walker swept the photos from the table, stood, and slammed his hands down.
“Goddammit! Thimpkin must’ve been the one who rendezvoused with the team five years ago, but Captain Flaker and possibly Thimpkin were evidently the only ones to make it out. Thimpkin knew enough about our objective to bury us!”
“But, sir, we eliminated them and destroyed the entire home,” added Ingro.
“Did you, Agent? Did you find the fucking bodies?”
Ingro nodded. “Yes, sir, we found the remains of two bodies, plus the scattered remains of the nurse.”
“Shit, you didn’t even get a look at George Watson to see if it was
Thimpkin or not?”
“We figured it was Thimpkin at the time.”
Walker snarled, “You know we don’t guess at anything in this department, Agent. Did you even attempt to analyze the remains for a DNA match?”
“Yes, sir, we did! When we took our samples of the two bodies, the DNA work-up showed the remains belonged to Captain Flaker and her brother Reginald Milwaukee Flaker. After that, we then concluded our discovery and evidence sweep. Sir, no one could have made it out of that house alive. The explosive used was the classified C8-476-12-Z Cobra Flash Stinger. We strapped the device on the nurse and detonated when she entered the house.”
“Wasn’t that the same weapon used on February 26, 1993, at the World Trade Center?”
Ingro nodded. “It never fails, sir.”
Walker sat down again. “Knowing Flaker’s history makes me think twice about her death. Ladies and gentlemen, I’m not convinced.”
Walker leaned back in his chair. “We can’t push on until we have complete confirmation that there’s no further interference with our objective. Besides, we don’t know if the information they obtained has been leaked to anyone.”
Agent Tips spoke up. “Sir, even if they did have information, I don’t think they had any physical proof—nothing. Certainly not enough to warrant an internal investigation.”
“Captain Flaker has more heart than any woman I’ve ever set eyes on. She was so good she could get herself out of hell with a glass of ice water. Even her training was a mystery! Hell, she was under the direct tutelage of that asshole George Thimpkin. I want all of you on red alert. Use as many agents as possible to secure this branch. If my hunch is correct and they’re still alive, their next stop will be here to get the physical proof they need to expose the project. That cannot happen, people!” Walker placed his elbows on the table and intertwined his fingers.
Tips leaned forward. “With all due respect, sir, who could they tell? We’re all aware that Project Aneman was created by an anonymous collective—we don’t even know who they are. All we know is this is a massive conspiracy and we’re just the foot soldiers.”
Walker gave her a thin smile. “Your candor is commendable, Tips, but are you questioning my authority?”
Ingro pulled his side arm and placed it on the table directly in front of Walker.
With a sigh followed by a gulp, Tips adjusted herself in her chair. “My sincerest apologies, sir. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
After a long pause, Walker glanced at Ingro, telling him without words to reclaim his weapon.
Walker continued, “As to your question, Agent Tips. Yes, this is bigger than all of us. Exposing this project would literally tear this country apart, diminishing our standing as a superpower and world leader. It would expose a devious, covertly orchestrated plot that would cause other nations to band together and come down on the United States. I’m sure the unknowns who oppose us, who are bent on putting a massive dent in the overall objective, are fully aware of the concept trust no one. If I were in their positions, I wouldn’t!
“Their goal is worldwide exposure—that’s the only possible way to stop us, or at least put a permanent dent in the way agencies such as our Gecko Bravo Unit go about doing things. If they succeed, they’ll destroy the work we’ve been doing since 1947.”
Walker stood and began pacing the floor. “Allow me to give you a little bit of insight into just how big this thing really is and why failure isn’t an option.”
He paused, staring out the window, letting the suspense build. Placing his hands in his pockets with a long sigh, he resumed walking around the table, his shoes clicking on the wooden floor.
“In 1947 we activated phase two of Project Aneman after an unbelievable discovery in Roswell, New Mexico—extraterrestrial life and technology. During the study of these beings and their metabolism, our genetic scientists isolated an unusual strand of DNA that proved to have miraculous properties. With these properties, our scientists strongly felt we could eventually create what every military in the world wants: a super soldier.
“As Sun Tzu states in The Art of War, ‘All warfare is based on the art of deception.’ Project Aneman was developed with this philosophy in mind. Though it took more time than we expected to reach this point in the project, this operation was forged primarily to seal America’s superpower status long before the turn of the twentieth century. The Vietnam War was the only war in which the beta version of the serum was tested. In November 1962, because President John F. Kennedy was considering withdrawing our troops from Vietnam, we negotiated with Vice President Lyndon B. Johnson, giving him fundamental information about Project Aneman and our plans. It wasn’t too difficult to bring him aboard—he had issues of his own with Kennedy’s policies and actually hated him. He felt Kennedy’s liberal politics were ruining the country, taking us backwards. Like many others, Johnson thought this Irish goody-goody, Ivy League, wet-behind-the-ears kid wasn’t worth the shoes he was wearing.”
Tips raised her hand to ask a question, but Walker ignored her. “I agreed with Johnson and the others as I watched Kennedy. This Kennedy actually believed he was the leader of the free world and that his policies should be heeded without question. In the end, he was sadly mistaken! Not to go into too much detail, but there are many reasons why Kennedy was taken out. Project Aneman just happened to be the sharpened sword that ultimately cut the head off that fucking Oval Office gigolo.”
One of the agents stifled a giggle, and Walker shot her an angry look. “However, let me get back to what I was saying. Besides Johnson’s opinion about Kennedy, he passionately desired the presidency, and I’m convinced he’d have done damn near anything to get it. We, on the other hand, didn’t give a good goddamn about Johnson’s motivations. He was just our puppet. We wanted to test our serum on a massive level, but Kennedy got in our way. Therefore, Kennedy was assassinated and Johnson took his place as president. Johnson then honored his part in the agreement and pushed forward the assault on Vietnam. Johnson hoped to strengthen his political ties and his legacy with an unquestionable victory in Vietnam, and we expected much more out of the serum. Unfortunately, our test failed. We ended up killing more Americans than we planned—our scientists had developed some new form of bottled insanity that slowly overcame every one of the American soldiers we injected in the field. This serum created psychopathic madmen, some incapable of combat, which made them prime targets for the Vietnamese to capture.
“Of course, we wrote those casualties off as we always do, as collateral damage. We then left President Johnson to clean it all up. Hell, this asshole consciously made a deal with the devil, so what did he expect?” Walker laughed—a high-pitched, humorless sound.
“This new form of bottled insanity we refer to as the J-XXX-0602 serum. It was far from what we expected, but proved useful in many operations after the fact—one being Ronald Reagan and his would-be assassin, John W. Hinckley Jr. Our objective in that scenario was to upgrade yet another vice president—this time, George Bush Sr. Instead of an assassination, which would put too much heat on Bush, our objective was to drive Reagan mad. Using the J-XXX-0602 serum, we meant to drive him insane to the point where the nation would clearly see their president was off his fucking rocker. After witnessing this, we hoped America would accept Vice President Bush as their president, despite his questionable background.
“So we injected the J-XXX-0602 serum into John W. Hinckley’s system and over time got him to believe Ronald Reagan was the fucking antichrist— a man who rose to power in order to destroy the second coming of the Lord.” Walker smugly laughed under his breath. “Just for kicks, I convinced this idiot that the up-and-coming actress Jodi Foster was actually in love with his ass, which ultimately played an essential role in the insanity portion of his trial. The bullet that hit President Reagan in the chest was laced with a small amount of the J-XXX-0602 serum. The shot was actually made by our black ops agents—Hinckley’s dumb ass couldn’t shoot a bowling ball off a stick if it was five feet in front of him. Black ops fled the scene, leaving Hinckley behind to take the fall, and he had a field day shooting around like a madman! The dose of the serum we laced the bullet with did take effect, but it proved too weak to completely overcome Reagan during his presidency. However, I’m convinced that, to this day, many people noticed tremendous differences in Reagan’s sanity and overall health. That serum definitely worked some wicked magic on his body and mind.”
Walker grinned.
“John W. Hinckley’s part in our ongoing affairs is still useful to us. Ladies and gentlemen, since February 1999 we’ve had an ongoing mission in play. We injected Hinckley with the experimental 10-558-GI serum, which stabilized his mental state so we could get him released from the mental institution on unsupervised family visits. The only part of the aforementioned we’re concerned with is the word ‘unsupervised.’ We still need Hinckley for another mission of extreme importance. He’ll be used to stop the 2008 Democratic presidential candidate—Hilary Rodham Clinton.”
Walker smirked. “Of course, I’m not at liberty to discuss the details of that mission.”
He continued, “From what I’ve told you, I’m sure you can imagine the rest.” He stopped in front of the window and stared outside. “It’s the year2003 and we’re again at war. And again, Project Aneman is fucking useless. George W. Bush’s Iraqi Freedom could benefit greatly from the project even at this stage, but as we all know, there’s a problem hovering over our fucking heads—possibly due to our failure to eliminate General Thimpkin, Kalista Flaker, and God knows who the fuck else back in ’98. Oh, and let us not forget our goddamn failure at properly sweeping Unit 87 the first goddamn time.”
Walker sighed again, followed by a moment of silence. “Still, we continue to push on, wreaking havoc in this nation and abroad, forwarding our objective to create an unstoppable world superpower and a new world order. This objective is still alive as we set our sights toward the future. We may be called upon to act in 2004, to influence the presidential election. We’re already causing chaos in Iraq, killing our own comrades to make a fucking point. We’re currently staging operations around the world, primarily acting as cloaked instigators in order to push this terrorism propaganda forward.
“Our overall objective will be threatened if the Democratic Party gains the presidential seat. We’re already on the verge of cutting the head off the dragon in Iraq, and then we’ll focus on Saudi Arabia—two of the world’s leaders in oil production. If these two nations are conquered, countries of the world will have no choice but to turn to us for our help—turn to us for oil.
“The Halliburton Corporation’s part in this overall objective has been grossly misunderstood by the average American. Once we gain the power and authority, we will then, with the assistance of the Halliburton Corporation, occupy and drill for oil in the region of the Caspian Sea. You see, the Caspian Sea region has the world’s largest oil reserves, an amazing six trillion dollars’ worth, likely making Central Asia the next Middle East. The problem has long been our ability to pipe it out. Afghanistan occupies a strategic position between the Caspian Sea and the markets of the Indian subcontinent and East Asia. It’s prime territory for building pipelines, which is why the oil company Unocal, as well as the United States government, welcomed the Taliban’s rise to power in 1996, as a promising source of stability. Although this stability didn’t materialize, people like President George W. Bush and the powerful oilmen around him have never given up on the tremendous profit possibilities Central Asia offers. We cannot allow Asia or anyone else to gain control of that resource, for that would be a chink in America’s new armor.
“Our ultimate goal is to build a massive pipeline carrying the Caspian Sea oil across Afghanistan and down through Pakistan to ports on the Arabian Sea. Along with our occupation of Iraq and Saudi Arabia, gaining control of Caspian Sea oil will make us the world’s greatest power—and the greatest enemy. Being the world’s greatest enemy means the United States must be prepared to defend itself, for at all times we’ll be looking over our shoulders, keeping a watchful eye out for resistance.
“A force as powerful as the Aneman will be of great importance to the United States in order to protect our new assets. It’s always been about the oil! If you control the world’s oil markets, you control the world. For this and many other reasons, our objective here in 2003 is to keep President George W. Bush in office for another term. Project Aneman will be nothing but the icing on the cake after that—icing that will undoubtedly shock the world when it’s administered, for America will no longer need our goddamn allies, these puny nations we have on our side.
“After our success, once a perfect serum is developed, a genetically enhanced military will make a massive strike on the world, occupying territory without fear. Our objective is so important that for the past twenty years we’ve eliminated countless prominent scientists in order to seal the developmental process of Project Aneman from getting away from us.
“People, at this time we’re still in the political stages of our overall objective. If our ongoing plans go off without a hitch, President George W.M Bush will continue his presidency. This is absolutely important for the objective and there’s nothing we won’t do to accomplish his re-election. We need this president to push his part of the objective through to its end. We expect it of him, for we’re the ones who put his ass in office through a conspirators’ coup that’s been in play since Bill Clinton won his second term; a powerful collective backed by money from prominent oilmen and heavyduty worldwide drug traffickers. George H.W. Bush Sr. is one of the powerful unknowns who put this operation into play. The first strategic attack on the World Trade Center on February 26, 1993, was an attempt to create anarchy within the Clinton administration and also destroy one of our testing labs and the scientists. The number one reason for the attack was to draw world attention to the nasty concept of terrorism and publicize those dirty little fucking Islamic extremists.”
Walker continued pacing around the table. “Then, ladies and gentlemen, came September 11, 2001, the day the towers fell. Before this day, tampering with the Florida vote was the decisive factor. The importance of tampering with the vote was to guarantee Bush would succeed Bill Clinton for the presidency instead of Vice President Gore. In my opinion, the attacks on the World Trade Center towers were a work of art—an artistic expression Picasso couldn’t touch if his ass wanted to. The planning took place months into the Gore-Bush presidential race. It was an ingenious plan! Black ops agents posed as window cleaners and placed explosive foundation tumblers into the walls of both buildings, rigged so they could be detonated from a distance. We put just enough distance between the day Bush was sworn into office and the time we gave the green light for September 11. When the planes struck the towers, we left plenty of time for the media to take their pictures, then record and transmit live footage to the world. After enough time had passed and the world was eating this terrorism shit up, we detonated the tumblers and brought those two foreign bitches to their fucking knees. That day, we made a monstrous statement by killing more than three thousand American citizens to further our cause. Shit, even the day chosen for the act was planned. Think of the irony—nine-eleven, get it, 911! Shit, no fucking Middle Eastern raghead has the brainpower to be that goddamn ironic. The funny thing about it all was that, in watching the footage of the towers coming down, how could people not see something strange? Those two towers were massively fortified. It would have been virtually impossible to completely bring them down that way, especially with only one plane per tower. But America and the world ate that shit up like soup.
“Some conspiracy theorist contemplated what really happened, but soon backed off because of the sensitivity. I again call it a work of genius, because just like the unsolvable assassination of President John F. Kennedy, no one really knows or will ever know who was behind the World Trade Center attacks. Both February 26, 1993, and September 11, 2001, will forever be known as infamous moments in American history.”
Walker lit another cigarette. “You know something? Americans never cease to amaze me with their stupidity. Americans will believe just about anything the government tells them. Hell, they’d actually believe I had Big Foot suck my dick last night if I told them my story with a governmental clearance badge in their faces.”
The agents in the room laughed.
“On September 11, 2001, the attack on the Pentagon forced Congress to get off their fucking asses and back our president, which in turn fed directly into our ongoing objective. After many years of playing hide and seek with that asshole of a dictator, we finally had detailed intelligence of Saddam Hussein’s whereabouts, weeks into the media hype circling Operation Iraqi Freedom. On November 27 of this year, President Bush is scheduled to leave the United States under a shroud of secrecy to Iraq to visit with our troops—supposedly for Thanksgiving. A drugged Saddam Hussein will actually be Air Force One’s cargo. The objective is to place Saddam in a ‘spider hole’ in his hometown of Tikrit. The hole is scheduled to be dug on September 16 by Black Ops field agents. This is where Saddam will be discovered and taken into custody by an American ground force, ordered to search the area, on December 13. He was actually a prisoner of the United States from the very day we began the assault on Iraq. Upon his capture, Saddam was injected with a highly concentrated form of the J-XXX-0602 serum.
“This all plays directly into our objective for keeping President George W. Bush in office, for Project Aneman is a venture more important than half of you in this room will ever know, even after my commentary. You see, in wartime, America would have no problem establishing her dominance over the world, made possible by our massive band of unstoppable Anemen. No force on God’s green earth could stand up to America’s fierce campaign to occupy world territory. In time, America will control this planet, creating the long-awaited new world order. I repeat: All warfare is based on the art of deception. Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems we no longer have the benefit of deception. Listen to me and listen well—if Project Aneman is exposed, the upper hand America’s on the verge of seizing will be no more.”
Walker returned to his chair with a self-satisfied grin. “Now that you know this project has so many tentacles, Agent Tips, I hope you understand that questioning the process or speculating about it will only bury you, sooner than later.”
Tips nodded. “I understand, Mr. Walker.”
“We’re superfluous, people! Our part in this project is miniscule compared to the overall objective. The Bushes, Vice President Cheney, the Central Intelligence Agency, the Halliburton Corporation, and everyone else are superfluous compared to the overall objective. It’s bigger than all of us. I’ve given you just a hint of this nation’s highly classified and sensitive intel, and there’s still a lot you don’t know. You must understand, there are other branches identical to us and just as capable who’re waiting to lead this project if we fail.”
Walker slowly pulled out a cigarette, placed it on the table in front of him, and looked at everyone in the room. “I’m telling you all this so you’ll know why we have to act in certain ways. We’ve had a noose around our necks since you and I came aboard this project. The only way out is through death.”
He sighed. “We might as well place the barrels of our weapons on our temples ourselves, cock those bitches, and pull the fucking triggers if this new cancer isn’t found and eliminated before it spreads. I’m not talking about Project Aneman, the people in this office, those who work for us, and the unknowns we all work for. These unknown elements I speak of have made it their priority to wipe Project Aneman and our subsequent objectives off the face of this earth.”
A single photo out of the pile he’d swiped off the table earlier teetered on the edge. It was a photo of Kalista as she yanked Nurse Hanna inside. Walker slowly picked it up and placed it in front of him, staring at it.
“Your mistakes ultimately become my mistakes. What other motivation do you need? Karma is one barbaric, hellish bitch I’d rather keep away from, because I know with my deeds, past and present, I’ll have hell to pay. Am I fucking understood?”
“Yes, sir!” the agents respond in unison.
“So tell me, what in the fuck are you waiting for?” Walker slammed his hand on the tabletop. “Secure this fucking facility—now!”
After everyone left his office, Walker activated his speakerphone and dialed the phone.
“Yes?” responded a lab scientist.
“This is Walker. Did you prepare the facility?”
“Yes, sir. We’re awaiting your arrival.”
“The modifications?”
“Things are going well, sir. The modifications we created for you will quicken the effect ratio.”
“Fine. I’m on my way.” Walker hung up the phone, lit the cigarette he’d placed on the table, and headed out of his office . . .
Visit the site where truth reads through fiction @
