Prologue

I was currently laying down on my deathbed out of old age. Trying to think if I have a good life? Well, with the people around me now, I can say I do. 101 years of my life is not easy, haha! Thinking of those days when Mad Jack was running around trying to put some arrows in the enemy and stabbing them with his sword. I motioned for a tattered black thick book with an initial of J.D. Addams in it and I thought back again….

*

I'm Major Jack "Daniels" Addam, I was in the Military for almost my whole life, decided to enlist way back in 1936. I have a very hard childhood causing me to try and escape in the military from what I believe back then is you have a gun? You're powerful and the military is the easy way when Germany and Britain is having this tension in the air.

I was very young when my family found out about my OCD. It's like hey different color of flowers? Pluck the petals and arrange it.Trying to tease me because I'm not normal? Rearrange the guys face with broken nose and bloody lips. Then my parents took me to a psychiatrist and find ways to prevent it from worsening but what they got is your son also have ADHD.

So now they have a kid who now is always in sugar high and slightly aggressive. So like a normal person would do in the 1930s? My father tried to beat it out of me because the type of parenting he like is you don't listen? Smack, you don't ask for permission? Smack. So when I was 17 I ran away and would not be coming back to meet him for the next 10 years, I was in the street for 1 year, trying to survive. Beating the heck out of people, stealing, I was a thug for a year and at that time I only exchange letters with my mum who is the one convincing me to go back home. I kept delaying till I decided I was going to enlist in the Army and for the next few years I racked up achievement after achievement to make my mum proud, when I suddenly got a message that 9 years after I ran away my father died of lung cancer.

In 1936, My 18 years of life with the rough upbringing that I got and having those excessive amount of energy resulted in me with higher physical strength and endurance than the norm that got me praise by trainers in the barracks and got myself in the British Reconnaissance Corp and got my ass ship to the frontlines and survived, and survived i did for 4 years with bullets flying through our head.

It was a very hard fight when your commander is ill prepared for the sudden war so you need to look after yourself not to get killed by some silly orders trying for other interpretation of their orders got my head banging against the wall sometimes.

Before I knew it, I got my ass handed to the British Commandos, is a special corps for some very aggressive maneuvers, 1940-46 was dead ass perfect! Give you a gun and chuck yourself to the frontlines, we have a guy who is deadly in bows and arrows and also a sword. I ask him to teach me to add on my increasing highly utilized skills.

After the war, I got some free time and was asked to look after some enlistee and beat the lazy bones out of them. First time walking in the field, got some hardass trying to slack without their drill instructor. Well, you can't be at the frontline for 10 years without a certain presence in you and I got to say it was nice to see some of their faces twitch and terrorize them for quite a while.

My astonishing display of skills in WW1, I got recruited by Special Air Service and got myself juggled from the different squadrons including the E squadron for almost 15 years. There was a point that I thought that the Army will get me killed from one way or another with all the amount of information that I have. And what did you know? Human nature didn't disappoint me when I got myself dishonorably discharged by continuing the mission? How could I know that the supervisor suddenly direct and order to retract the mission when me and my team was already behind enemy backline. We try to survive and without the support of our commanders it was hard to get information, I was the only one to survive for 18 days limited food and ammunition, when I got back to the base I was automatically dishonorably discharged for insubordination and desertion. I was out of words when I didn't have a trial, the honors and medals suddenly feels so useless all of a sudden.

I tried to adjust to the civilian sector, but something is always nagging me behind the back of my head that something doesn't feel right about the situation. So I tried to find out why I was suddenly discharge and what I find out that I was the only one competing for the promotion of Lieutenant Colonel against some fourth generation rich kid whom I felt who doesn't even got to be stationed forefront of battle and with him being 29 years old and my 43 years, the 14 years gap is far too high to breach, with my sniffing around I was warned by my friends not to stop because I was already in the red with the military with the information I have and with me not within their ranks.

So I pack my bag and took my give the rest of my savings to my friends and send it to my mum who by the way is living in a villa in a nice cozy village and will be leading an easy life with the amount of money I send till the day she die, then I left the country, it's hard to stay when you know what kind of injustice the system did to you and I didn't step back for the rest of my life. I joined a mercenary band in stay with them for 8 years, got to meet weird people with vehicle fetish, quirky dudes who can put you sleep before you know it, and some youngsters who is suffering from PTSD(Being a child soldier is certainly understandable) who is deadly with a sniper rifle, and one peculiar German, I also learn some skills from them and various places. Being in mercenary will certainly test your morals, where only money talks. You have skills? They have better weapons, you have better weapons? They have more people and better weapons, you have both? They have better skills, better weapons, and more people.

So I left the mercenary world with my degrading morals when I got myself an invitation from the CIA to be their instructor in demolition, counter-terrorism, subterfuge, field operatives from different terrain, and close-quarter combat, some knife skills when I got paid. Some trainees even scoff at to get train by a 50 year old man, well with me going by the name Daniels and not my real name and all the scarring I have and 8 years MIA in the military who would guess that I kick ass before they were born.

Remembering the time I was training the enlistee, channeling the inner sadism I felt that time with the crude words I learned in being a mercenary and I spit some colorful words out of them. I trained them differently with the amount the US is paying me, and with meagre amount they pay for the first year they were displeased but I told them you want to cut budget? Tighten your purse if don't want to have some quality recruits. They tried to intimidate me that they will ship me back to the UK if they don't have the result they want that made me so hard.

So I trained the next one for a three month and when they come around to check, the recruit won't even follow their orders, some indoctrination and planting subconscious mental trigger from me with some vigorous body training to weaken their mental resistance for three month straight and viola. I was suddenly requested to meet Director, I was assigned to build the best operatives that I can make and they are very willing to pay me with it.

And for the next 15 years, my life slow down and savor the pleasure of it, I learn how to tend some plants to past time and be patient, Psychology to not break my soldiers mind and what would you know? I have already outgrown my ADHD and OCD, Biology and how to properly build muscles so I know how far I can push them, and with US paying me, they were very glad that I was taking my job seriously so they send out the materials for me to check out. Latest breakthrough will certainly find my table the next day, and continually tried to improve their close-quarter combat to be as effective as possible.

Before I was going to send my resignation letter ending the lavish life I've known, I was asked to be apart of some convoy and be the lead bodyguard of the US President in Saudi Arabia. And the me who was having a trust issue people in politics, I tried to check if he was clean or not, check the Director if he has any hidden agenda, and all the possible angles.

So I accepted for this the first field mission I had in 15 years and will be the last I will have, and some terrorist organizations decided they have nothing better to do and decided to kidnap the US President and giving us 5 days before the deadline, it was a hectic 2 days of trying to toss the flaming potato for some politicians and the Director trying to gather all the intel. So I ask a team of four special operative composing of five people each. When the negotiating was still on going we rushed them at their base, and what do I suddenly realize? There was a mole in the government. Trying to forcefully open the door and suddenly got fire the moment we open with them already barricading the first floor and I suddenly look back and check the place that we were surrounded, with the operation is so classified that the Board of Governors, the CIA and FBI Directors are the only one who knew about the abrupt operation. So out of the 20 special ops and me we manage to safely rescue the president there were only 4 left.

We run those terrorist down and left 16 of our comrades trying to save one person. Is this even worth it?

After the incident and I resign my post as the head trainer in ripe age of 66 and erase my existence from CIA server. I traveled the land, build myself an RV from 1963 black Volkswagen type 2 transporter, I overhauled the engine and build it myself from top to bottom. And i roam, trying to check out the sights, the sights that I knew that are there but I just don't acknowledge to ease my conscience, the places you can't see if you are on the other side. I met some new friends, and I even let some doctor without borders in my van, and expand my van to accommodate them. I say to myself, why can't I use all my skills to help them? The soldier who fights for his country, the mercenary who fight for money, and the old man who is just letting the time pass by.

Now, I tried to help, from border to border of some war torn part of some country, I tried to make it safe for them. The money I have, the skills I learned I use it to let them safe. I got the joy of seeing some kids who grew up and admire the current me. Teaching them to protect themselves is quite a nice feeling, getting to learn some medicinal techniques from some of the doctors, how to suture the wounds to prevent scarring. Pftt! Who said I can't learn some skills more.

We got some occasional raids, but we fend them off with the kids I taught, it was easy to disable people if they underestimate you because of your age. Letting them meet the ground face first was funny.

Got to learn some exotic cuisines, some unique culture you won't read from books. Talking to people will let you learn more of their culture so fast.

I organize some outreach, to some places that technology can't reach. They say I can't come because of my advanced age, a bunch of sissy. Their are just so much about life that you can learn from. I start some foundation to help war orphans.

For the last 35 years of my life I was staying at an orphanage in London, just letting this children grow up and be successful.

So here we are now, me holding a book brought with me throughout all the adventure I did. From the time I was diagnosed as a kid. I can't even believe myself that I reach and age of 101. I was pretty ancient for some people.

I closed my eyes let myself get some rest and realized I was pretty tired.

*

I opened my eyes and saw a guy with pretty long beard saying I was the nine hundred billionth to die and got a chance for reincarnation.

"Can I continue my retirement peacefully?"