Jones earliest memories are of hiding in his fathers' plantation and sleeping away lazy days as the Carribean sun turned the resin from the MetaJuana into a hallucinogenic haze. Eventually his father would find him, usually by following the singing, and put him to work carrying the banana-bunched-size buds back to the drying racks.
His parents ran a profitable business refining a magic distillate from the 'erb for Voodouns and other thaumatic types. During the turbulent struggles that characterised the formation of the Carribean free league the farm was alternately nationalised and raided by various factions. Growing Jones might have been the vagued out, lazy assed son of a dope farmer but he wasn't going to see the things he loved destroyed.
The promise of free thaumaturgical-grade weed was enough to convince some local toughs and friends to form a Farm Action Team. The next group of pirates who came looking for plunder were suprised by the undertrained yet enthusiastic FATs, some even living to tell the tale. As more minor raids were repulsed the FAT reputation grew. Eventually even reaching the halls of government.
The family was suprised to say the least when a military envoy decided to try negotiation for rights to the Farm instead of force. In return for guaranteed supply the military would employ, equip and train Reality's FATs. It was put to the vote and all agreed, on the one condition that the newly formed merc group have a new and better name.
Finding p the military life excited newfound energies in him, Reality became a freelance merc and worked for many of the powers in the region. Eventually the settling of the political situation in the League left many units with little but coastguard duty, a carefree life which Jones assumed he would love.
When the fall came, during a nighttime raid, it
was short and ended in a tub of very green butter containing 40 litres
of the farms own extract. Immediate bliss was followed by system shock
and coma. Waking to find himself the proud owner of new muscles and brain
tissue, to replace that burned out by the power of the weed, Reality decided
that to keep his edge he needed a tour of duty nearer the edge....and that
is what he found in Seattle...
Created: 1 July, 1997 | Updated:
20 February 2000