Camp Site (60,135)
Jack Boone is the first character you meet when you get to Kingsmouth. He holds fort just outside the Agartha entrance, with a tent, a bonfire and his rifle. He has been trying to study the zombies, figure out how their clock is ticking and hope to understand how to get rid of them once and for all.
I come from the South…the real old South. My partner Wolf and I ride for a higher authority. When you need to know us, you’ll know us. You got a whole lot to learn about the secret world first, kid. And when you’re all learned up, then you gotta understand what you learned. Kinda like peeling the layers off an onion. Probably be as much weepin’ involved too, won’t lie to you. Won’t talk down to you neither. You and me, we’re the same, I’m just more experienced, is all. And experience don’t count for much these days. We’ve been stretched out thin as gauze, and we need all the cool heads and steady hands we can get. Thought I had a measure of the absolute darkness in this world. The darkness waiting its turn, patient as all hell, to come through. Turns out I was wrong. So, guess we both got some learning to do.
Too much going wrong for such a little island. But this is how it always starts, as I’ve born witness more times than I’d care to remember. Begins with a single act, usually someone being damn stupid, damn greedy or both – let me tell you, kid, that kid is the worst kind. Then…then it just piles on and piles on. Once that cellar door is open, ain’t no one wedging the damn thing shut again. You won’t find ordinary people in a place like Solomon Island. They’ve all been touched. Because, you see, here’s the thing about the secret world: it’s the kind of secret that spreads. The kind that sticks. Hell, that’s how myth and legend get going, on a whisper, passed door-to-door, gone viral. Mighty dangerous things to get into people’s heads. That’s why most myths are ninety-nine percent warning. Yeah, heh, about as effective as the ones they slap on a packet of smokes.
It’s a big storm that can reach all the way from New England to the old one. Storm of the century. Gotta say it’s an impressive sight, the army of the Templars on the march. So’s a herd of buffalo, and you don’t want to find yourself standing in front of one of those. Or be riding with them when they go over a cliff, neither. It’s good work you do, and proud, but that can make for a blinkered combination. Can get you all tangled up in trying to prove you’re prouder and more good than the next guy. Think your bosses would have sent you special delivery if it didn’t kick dirt on the Illuminati’s shoes? Well, you listen kid, I ain’t here to pass no judgement. Find the measure of yourself, and if it should match up with the company you keep, well then, I tip my hat to you. Society is what keeps us apart from the dark.
Sign of the times, to see your people back in circulation. The Dragon. He-he. You play your cards with one hell of a poker face, and then, then the casino goes up in smoke and you were never there. Hell of a coincidence. The other societies are pissing in their pants, you know that, don't you? Afraid of what you might mean. That all the empires they're been building up brick by brick for centuries gonna mean squat in the end. Could be you're right, but hell, I never wrapped my head around "chaos theory." Even if what happened here was because a butterfly flapped its wings or somesuch, I'd find it hard to begrudge the butterfly. Well, I heard you guys have whole orchards of the critters. Well, you listen kid, I ain’t here to pass no judgement. Find the measure of yourself, and if it should match up with the company you keep, well then, I tip my hat to you. Society is what keeps us apart from the dark.
So, Illuminati. Hm. You guys have been missed round these parts, just take a look and see. Put on one hell of a homecoming parade for you. Now I saw head office sweeping the shit under the rug on TV, but if they sent you out, I guess they're trying to corporate responsibility on for size, eh? Only they don't really do responsibility now, do they? Meh, I understand, he-he. It's the pioneer spirit of the American century. Home of the brave, and all. I'd sure be the one to talk now, wouldn't I? Or is it because the Templars are digging here now, eh? Sniffing at old bones? I reckon they've been waiting a long time for the Illuminati to slip up. Ain't to quarrel like an old-fashioned quarrel. Well, you listen kid, I ain't here to pass no judgement. Find the measure of yourself, and if it should match up with the company you keep, well, then I tip my hat to you. Society is what keeps us apart from the dark.