🚫 Obama Would Want THIS Message Hidden

Obama wouldn’t want you to see this message in a million years. It warns of a disturbing government program you must protect yourself from. Obama unleashed this program on America when he was president. [Main Logotype (Dark Green) | EMA]( Fellow American, Obama wouldn’t want you to see [this message]( in a million years. It warns of a disturbing government program you must protect yourself from. Obama unleashed this program on America when he was president. And now? IT’S COMING BACK. [>> Click here to see the disturbing truth]( Regards, [Louis Navellier] Louis Navellier Chief Investment Officer, Growth Investor  The two of us jumped to opposite sides of the flume just as the gangsters started shooting. I crouched in a b, toty unprotected as the deadly clatter from their rapid-fire guns echoed the rocky ws. I thought for sure I’d hit, but after a few seconds the shooting ped, and I was still int. I was afraid to move and even more afraid to look over and see if Spader was okay. The sharp explosions fell to a distant echo that bounced around the cavelike room. My ears were ringing and the chemical smell of gunpowder burned my nose. I figured this was what it must be like to be in a war. “ up!” one of the gangsters ordered. “Hands in the air!” I cautiously looked over to Spader and saw that he was okay. We stood slowly and raised our hands. The gangsters held their guns on us. I didn’t k why. It wasn’t like we had weapons of our own. The second gangster kept glancing nervously between the two of us. He looked almost as scared as we were. Almost. “Th-They from Mars?” he asked his buddy nervously. Under less terrifying circumstances, I would have laughed. It must have looked like we had just landed from outer space. Not did we flash in through a storm of light, we were still dressed in our bright blue swimskins from Cloral. For a second I thought about pulling a huge bluff and chanting: “Drop your weapons or we will vaporize you with our mind-heat,” or something equy sci-fi, but I didn’t the . “Don’t matter,” barked the other gangster. He was definitely the one in charge, but I could tell from his voice that he was a little shaky too. “We done our job,” he added. “S-So what about th-them?” the nervous gangster asked. The guy in charge looked us over. I could almost hear the wheels turning in his brain. He didn’t exly seem like a rocket scientist, so they must have been very sm wheels. I dered if they hurt when they turned. “You!” the guy barked at me. “Gimme that ring!” I couldn’t it. He wanted my Traveler ring! This was . You guys k how badly I need that ring. It shows me w the flumes are, and it’s the way I can my journals to you. Without this ring, I’m lost. “It’s not worth anything,” I said in a feeble attempt to talk him out of it. “Don’t matter,” the gangster snapped back at me. “ I want is proof to show you two are real.” “Then take us with you, mates!” said Spader, trying to be ly. “We’re the proof you need, in the flesh!” “Those ain’t my orders,” he snarled. “Rey? What are your orders?” I asked. “Just hand over the ring,” the commanded. He raised his machine gun to prove he meant business. What could I do? I took my ring and tossed it to him. He caught it and jammed it into his pocket. “Let’s step outside, nice and easy,” the guy said. This was good. It meant they weren’t going to gun us down right that moment. Maybe t was a way out of this after . The nervous gangster threw the wooden door , then both stepped aside and motioned with their weapons for us to go through. I looked at Spader. Spader shrugged. We had to play along. With our hands up, we both stepped out of the gate and into the dark subway tunnel. Everything was familiar, so I made a sharp right, king it was the way to the abandoned subway station. But the gangster had other things in mind. “No, you don’t,” he ordered. “Keep walking.” We had to walk straight ahead, away from the door. Three steps later we stepped over the rail of the subway track. This was beginning to look bad again. “! Turn around.” Oh yeah, this was bad. We were both standing on the train tracks. “You move, you die,” said the first gangster. Yeah, right. We move, we die. If a train comes along, we don’t move, we die. Not a lot of wiggle room . “W are we, Pendragon?” whispered Spader. His answer came in the of a far whistle. We both looked to our right and saw the headlight of a subway train rounding the bend, headed our way, on our track. “What is that thing?” asked Spader nervously. Being from a territory that was covered entirely with water, he had seen anything like a train before. “That,” I said, trying not to let my voice show the fear that was tearing at my gut, “is a pretty big tum-tigger.” “Hobey,” said Spader in awe. “We just got and we’ve already lost.” We had been on First Earth for of two minutes, and we were staring death right in the eye. Welcome , Bobby Pendragon. That’s a taste of how our adventure on First Earth began. I don’t want to too far ahead because t was a whole lot that happened between the time I finished my last journal, and when we landed . But I wanted to explain to you how I lost my ring. This is because as I write this journal to you, Mark and Courty, I’m not rey sure if you’re ever going to read it. If I don’t that ring back, I’ll be able to send this to you. The thing I can do is keep writing, hang on to the journals, and hope that I the ring back . , let me red to w I finished my last journal and you guys back up to speed. I spent my last few days on the territory of Cloral in a haze. We’d defeated Saint Dane, but I didn’t feel much like celebrating. That’s because Uncle Press was gone, and I kept replaying his last moments over and over in my head. Saint Dane had escaped through a flume and Spader tried to chase him. But a storm of bullets came back at him. Uncle Press realized what was happening, knocked Spader out of the way…and took the bullets himself. He died in my arms. It was the absolute worst moment of my . The thing that kept me from toty losing it was that just before he died, he d me we’d be toher again. I k this sounds pretty loopy, but I him. If being a Traveler has taught me anything, it’s that nothing is impossible. My eyes have been ed to so many worlds and levels of existence that the idea of hooking up with Uncle Press again doesn’t seem that far-fetched. Of course, I have no clue how it might happen. That’s because I’ve scratched the surface of king t is to k about being a Traveler. I wish t were an instruction manual I could through Amazon.com that would spell out the rules and regulations. Unfortunately, it’s not that easy. I’ve got to learn things as I go along. And I’ve got to do it without Uncle Press. Welcome to my as a Traveler, phase two. In those last days on Cloral, I k what my next move had to be, but I was putting it because, well, I was scared. Things were different . I was alone. It was a whole bgame and I wasn’t sure if I was good enough to play in it. When Saint Dane flumed out Cloral, he was headed for a territory ced Veelox. I k I had to follow him, but the idea of going after him alone was about as appealing as setting my hair on fire. things being equal, I think I’d rather have set my hair on fire. So I made a decision that I hope I don’t regret. I asked Vo Spader to go with me. Don’t me wrong, Spader is a guy. He’s the Traveler from Cloral, after . He d my more than once; he’s an incredible athlete; he’s about as brave as can be; and most importantly, he’s my . So why should I be worried about asking him to come with me? It’s because his total, blind hatred of Saint Dane is dangerous. Saint Dane caused the death of his father and for that, Spader wants revenge. Big time. Hey, I don’t blame him. But t were a few times on Cloral w Spader got so completely wrapped up in Saint Dane-hating that he nearly got us killed. Truth be told, Spader’s anger toward Saint Dane is one of the reasons Uncle Press is dead. Since then, Spader d me he would control himself, and his anger. I can hope that when we come face-to-face with the demon again, and I we will, Spader ’t do anything stupid. These were some of the conflicted thoughts that were banging around inside my head as I finished my last journal. “Hobey-ho, Pendragon,” Spader said as he strode into my apartment the morning of our departure. Spader had almond-shaped eyes that looked sort of Asian. They turned up slightly and made him look as if he were always smiling. The truth was, most of the time he was smiling…when he wasn’t obsessing over Saint Dane, that is. His long black hair was still wet, which meant he had been in the water. Spader spent a lot of time in the water, playing cop with the boats and barges that came and went from Grion. He loved his job, and his t. At least he loved it before he found out he was a Traveler. Things had changed a little since then. “It’s time,” I said. “For what?” was his quick response. “Cloral is safe. Uncle Press is gone. And I’m as ready as I’ll ever be to go after Saint Dane.” Spader gave me a devilish smile. “ you’re talking, mate! I’ve been waiting to hear those words for weeks! What if the trail’s gone cold?” “I don’t think that’s possible,” I answered. “Uncle Press always said that time between territories isn’t relative.” Spader frowned. “You lost me.” I had to laugh. This didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me either, but I had to trust Uncle Press. “Look at it this way,” I explained. “Saint Dane flumed to Veelox a few weeks ago, but since then he may have spent five years t. Or a minute.” “ I’m toty lost,” Spader said in frustration. “Bottom line is, we’re not too late,” I said. “It doesn’t matter when we go after him, because the flume will put us w we need to be, when we need to be t.” “O-kay,” said Spader tentatively. “I’ll trust you on that.” I’d already said good-bye to our s on Grion, and I’d sent my last journal to you. I had explained the importance of journals to Spader and he had already started his own. The person he chose to send them to on Cloral for safekeeping was Wu Yenza. She was the chief aquaneer and Spader’s . He couldn’t have picked a better person. I took a last look around my apartment. Then we went down to the docks, loaded our air globes and water sleds onto a skimmer boat, and left Grion for the flume. Spader was the expert, so he drove. As we shot across the water I looked back at the giant, floating farm habitat of Grion, dering if I’d ever see it again. I ked Cloral. T were times when I uy had fun on that territory. It gave me hope that being a Traveler didn’t mean I always had to live in a state of fear and confusion. the question was, what lay ahead of us? Pretty much a state of fear and confusion. . we go again. The trip to the flume was cake. We anchored the skimmer near the reef, popped on the air globes that owed us to breathe underwater, triggered the water sleds, and quickly sank below the surface. We didn’t run into any shark quigs either. I think that once Saint Dane is finished with a territory, the quigs no longer patrol the gates. Still, I wasn’t taking any s. As we sped through the water being pulled by the sleds, I kept glancing back to make sure nothing nasty was sneaking up on us to try and a nibble. I didn’t relax until we shot under the shelf of rock that led to the gate. Follog the glow from my ring, we quickly found the wide circle of light that led up and into the cavern that held the flume. Moments later we were standing toher in the cavern, staring up at the dark flume tunnel that was cut into the rock w high over our heads. This was it. The last few seconds of calm. Spader looked at me and smiled. “My heart’s thumpin’.” So was mine. We were standing at the starting line and the gun was about to go . Spader loved adventure. Me? I’d just as be watching toons. King Spader was nervous made me feel like I wasn’t such a weenie after . He added, “We’re in for another natty-do, aren’t we, mate?” “Yeah,” I answered. “Pretty much.” “No use in wasting time then,” he said, sounding a lot braver than I felt. “Yeah,” I said. “We’re on the wrong territory.” I od straight, looked up to the dark hole of the flume, and shouted, “Veelox!” The tunnel sprang to . Shafts of bright light shot from deep inside. The familiar jumble of musical notes could be heard faintly at first, but quickly grew louder. They were coming to us. This ad is sent on behalf of InvestorPlace Media at 1125 N. Charles Street, Baltimore, Maryland 21201. If you’re not interested in this opportunity, please [click here]( and remove yourself from these offers. [Small logotype (EMA)]( ExpertModernAdvice.com is sending this newsletter on behalf Inception Media, LLC. Inception Media, LLC appreciates your comments and inquiries. Please keep in mind, that Inception Media, LLC are not permitted to provide іndivіdualіzed financial advіse. This email is not fіnаncіаl аdvіcе and any іnvеstmеnt decision you make is solely your responsibility. Feel frее to contact us toll frее Domestic/International: +17072979173 Mon–Fri, 9am–5pm ET, or email us support@expertmodernadvice.com. 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