Jacob had been happy. It had been over. No more war, no more fighting, just a life of teaching and rebuilding and raising a family. Then, in a flash of cosmic power and a rush of returning memories, he was an imPort again.
Not an imPort arriving in Cape Canaveral, though. No, this time he had arrived in the City, a name out of history, a legend of violence and tragedy he’d only heard second-hand from the most experienced imPorts. Before he had time to process what was happening, he was surrounded by armed personnel, bound by power-dampening cuffs, and hustled none-to-gently into a transport for ‘processing’
This is the kind of world Jacob had always feared as an imPort, the world he had fought to prevent. A world where imPorts either ran rampant over defenseless people, or were corralled and brutalized by those who feared and exploited them. In the world of Cape Canaveral, Jacob had led a government-backed team that had tried to maintain balance and keep the peace. In this world, he’s stuffed into an armoured vehicle along with other people whose only crime is being imPorts, and driven off to an unknown fate.
The worst moment comes when Jacob gets a glimpse at the unit patch on one of the masked and armoured agents manhandling him into the vehicle. Sewn onto the shoulder of the man’s uniform is a familiar yet inverted symbol: a black tower instead of white, set against a red background instead of blue. Printed underneath is the name: ‘AEGIS UNIT.’
“Oh, you have got to be shitting me,” Jacob groans. Then the door slams, and the transport starts rolling.
RESCUE
This is more like it. Freed of his bonds by whichever Resistance members have intercepted the vehicle, Jacob stands up and stretches out both his muscles and powers once the fighting is done. He lights up with a corona of blue energy, feeling his biotic abilities return after being nullified, then turns to whoever has saved him.
“Thanks for the help,” he says with feeling. “I don’t know what they do to ‘processed’ imPorts, but I’m guessing it isn’t fun. We’ve got a place to run to, right?”
He hopes there’s somewhere they can go to get off the street. This transport may not have been well-guarded, but he doesn’t doubt that reinforcements will arrive soon.
JACOB TAYLOR - MoM MEMORIES - OTA
Well, this is bullshit.
Jacob had been happy. It had been over. No more war, no more fighting, just a life of teaching and rebuilding and raising a family. Then, in a flash of cosmic power and a rush of returning memories, he was an imPort again.
Not an imPort arriving in Cape Canaveral, though. No, this time he had arrived in the City, a name out of history, a legend of violence and tragedy he’d only heard second-hand from the most experienced imPorts. Before he had time to process what was happening, he was surrounded by armed personnel, bound by power-dampening cuffs, and hustled none-to-gently into a transport for ‘processing’
This is the kind of world Jacob had always feared as an imPort, the world he had fought to prevent. A world where imPorts either ran rampant over defenseless people, or were corralled and brutalized by those who feared and exploited them. In the world of Cape Canaveral, Jacob had led a government-backed team that had tried to maintain balance and keep the peace. In this world, he’s stuffed into an armoured vehicle along with other people whose only crime is being imPorts, and driven off to an unknown fate.
The worst moment comes when Jacob gets a glimpse at the unit patch on one of the masked and armoured agents manhandling him into the vehicle. Sewn onto the shoulder of the man’s uniform is a familiar yet inverted symbol: a black tower instead of white, set against a red background instead of blue. Printed underneath is the name: ‘AEGIS UNIT.’
“Oh, you have got to be shitting me,” Jacob groans. Then the door slams, and the transport starts rolling.
RESCUE
This is more like it. Freed of his bonds by whichever Resistance members have intercepted the vehicle, Jacob stands up and stretches out both his muscles and powers once the fighting is done. He lights up with a corona of blue energy, feeling his biotic abilities return after being nullified, then turns to whoever has saved him.
“Thanks for the help,” he says with feeling. “I don’t know what they do to ‘processed’ imPorts, but I’m guessing it isn’t fun. We’ve got a place to run to, right?”
He hopes there’s somewhere they can go to get off the street. This transport may not have been well-guarded, but he doesn’t doubt that reinforcements will arrive soon.