[The Secret World] Kingsmouth - Interview with Edgar "Scrapyard" Stone

Venue: The Secret World
Created by: Funcom
Location: Scrapyard, Kingsmouth, Solomon Island, Maine

Interview with Edgar "Scrapyard" Stone

4 November 2013

Immediately after the start of the Solomon Island blockade incident

Edgar Stone runs the local Scrapyard outside of Kingsmouth. He can be found there along with his Doberman Pinchers Tango and Cash.  I suspect his young exposure to Infernal or the Filth when he was young may have contributed to his transhuman intelligence and possibly the spontaneous animation of mechanical entities in the scrapyard as well.

Me: Hello?  Anyone there? (Beginning of Mission: Scrapyard Defense)

Edgar:  Tango! Cash! Don't, boys! I said Down! Hush or you'll taste the stick! You know you will.  Shut your pie holes, boys, we got ourselves visitors! Wooh-hoo, and this one's breathin'!  Yeah, now that's more like it.  They're mean sumbitches, sooner bite a chunk off your B-U-T as look at you.  Watch as you don't make eye contact, particularly with Cash there. That's the one right there.  He don't much care for that, and he's the friendly one.  Hey! Tango! Leave that arm alone, it's infected. Fucking dumb motherfucker.  Jay-sus Christ on a bicycle, fuckers got a taste for Frankies.  Dogs been keepin' the yard clean, goddam Frankensteins get spooken by 'em.  Those who don't get spooked, they get torn into tiny li'l pieces.  Even I get sick of watching 'em go at it, and I've seen some sick shit in my life.  But the boys, they can't get to all of 'em.  Frankies and Smurfs keep popping up like, like, uh... like bunny-rabbits at Easter. Boom boom! You know what I mean?  You a dog person? Cats are good for nuthin' except as yowlin' dishrags.  You bein' a hero an' all, I'm guessin' it don't matter much.  You ain't got a choice, you're here to fight Frankies and those mutant Smurfs, right?  I even got some toys you can play with. Toys take go BOOM and SPLAT.  Don't ask me where I get 'em, 'cause I won't tell you, and it ain't non of your business, you understand me?

(Chuckles) Look at that serious face on you.  So now maybe my boys can take a breather while I get some work done on the short-bus from hell right here.  We got ourselves a deal, hero?  Mind you keep the noise down, Tango and Cash are the sensitive types, you know... but I reckon they'll be happy to pick through the pieces after.

Me: As soon as I figure out half of what you just said, I will help.  Mind if I ask you some follow up questions?

Edgar: Wha do ya want?

Me: Edgar right, can I ask you... I mean, you didn't stay at the Sheriff's Office with most of the other survivors.  How did you manage when the Fog rolled in?

Edgar: Couldn't tell you much about the day that goddamn fog rolled in. I 'member seeing it out in the bay, thick and dark, like pea soup. I went outside for a look-see, you know, and then everything went black. I woke up the next morning back in my trailer, splittin' headache, like sharp things were crawling around inside my brain. Tango barking like crazy and Cash, starin' at the door like sumthin' spooked him good out there. Sumthin' big...and stinky. The fog took the whole town, or most of it, replaced 'em with smurfs and frankensteins. I call 'em frankensteins on account of the movie, see? Dead men walking, get it? And the smurfs? Big blue bastards with spikes and claws, and those walkin' brains, runnin' the whole fuckin' freak show. Jeez.

Not that it made much of a difference 'round here. Town was filled with vermin and whores and devil worshipers long before that fog rolled in. Sure, you got your survivors back at the sheriff's office. 

That Bannerman lady, Andy...and that big guy, the outsider, with the bike - wa-what's his name? Elk? Deer? Give's a shit. Then there's Hawthorne, the pastor, that's not a man you should trust, let me tell you that. He's got skeletors in his wardrobe. I'm telling ya, I'm telling ya the truth. And that gypsy fortune teller, if she's still alive, the harlot. Never slept with me, he-he, slept with half the town though, 'cluding the shrink, sheriff's husband. Bannerman, hell. As for Norma, she's awright, but... I feel a whole lot safer out here alone with my hounds.

It's not the first time we've had an incident 'round these parts, now. I seen things, bad things, slimy things. Things with a hundred sharp teeth, a thousand black eyes and terrible thoughts that chew and claw their way into your brain so that it hurts like a mother fucker and makes your nose bleed and gives you terrible nightmares. And they stay there. They never, ever leave you.

Me: You've been around here a long time huh?  Seen how things are in this town...

Edgar: I'm a gen-u-ine local, grew up right here on Solomon Island, just south of town, at the Overlook Motel. Used to be nice down there. Red oaks in the forest, beautiful ocean view...Place all boarded up these days, been that way since those guests just up and vanished, and those lights and knocking sounds at night... Screams... Word of mouth got around, people stopped comin' and we had to shut down. Now that whole business at the motel started when the Englishman disappeared. Never saw the man again. Left all his luggage n' everything. Didn't even pay up. Wicker, I think his name was, I think, I think it was Wicker. Yeah, his room smelled like cigarettes, and booze and sulfur, and English stuff, you know. And there was this sticky black stuff all over. I remember, 'cause I had to clean it up afterwards, heh. By that point, my mama'd had enough, what with Pa dying n' all, and then Henry and...and Tom Dexter. So she left for Florida, said I had to fend for my own from now on. At least I had the scrapyard. Been runnin' that ever since.

Me:  Well is the business at the scrapyard better?  Before everything went to hell?

Edgar:  Everyone always told me I'd never amount to much, everyone 'cept my mama and Tom. Tom Dexter's his name. Now he believed in me. Tom always believed in me. Then he died, and I had nuthin'. Nuthin' but his memories inside my brain. And the yard. Of course I had the yard and my dogs. And my projects. I always got my projects. Those fuckers back in town? They'll be howlin' a different tune when they watch me ride outta here, wavin' my handkerchief, blowin' exhaust up their tight assholes. Fuck you! They gonna be sorry for treatin' me the way they did, callin' me a retard a-and badmouthin' my mama.  Gawd bless her soul. They're gonna pay for what happened to Tom Dexter, I'll tell ya that too, I swear on my life. I got a list for my bus, it's a short list for a short bus. Hee-hee. Goddamn, I'm funny. It's got me on top, of course, then my dogs, Norma, I mean, Mrs. Creed, she's on there. Andy, if he asks nicely, with politneness. The Widow Franklin, she's welcome to have a seat. Eeeh, the injun fella - Red - yeah maybe him too. The rest of 'em? Devil worshippers, whores, liars and cheaters! They can watch the rest of us roll outta here, over the bridge and through the fog. They can rot in here until the Day o' Judgement. Until the day o' Exodus.

Me: Well, thanks for the Quantum Bracer.  What else can you tell me about your understanding of quantum mechanics (motors) when you made the thing?

Edgar:  Jay-sus Christ, do I look like a college professor? I aint' got no fancy words. All my gene-i-us is in my hands, and franklies they got neither the time nor patience to be splainin' shit to you. Just don't give up do you? Look, quantum motors, is just motors. Except you don't see the motor. You following? Gotta shut your eyes and focus on the sub-and-tonics of things. You see the itabities, they go in one end. Then godzillions of tiny li'l gears start grinding up against each other. And then - Poof! - you get these bitatities shooting out the other end!

Me: So when's the short bus going to be ready? (Beginning of Mission: Full Metal Golem)

Edgar: She's a real beaut, ain't she? All dressed up and nowhere to go. And she's gettin' restless.  (To the bus) Hush now, baby girl. Hush now. We'll get you sorted, I promise.  I know the look of someone who got no understandin' of motors. Shee-it, that's awright, I ain't much good with people but I'm a gene-I-us when it comes to automobiles.  This fine lady, she's the only ticket off the island.  Wait. Didja think you could just walk everyone out of here, across the bridge and through the fog, back to silly-vie-stations?  You think you're some kinda hero, don't you?  (Laughs) That's funny. (Laughs) That's hi-larious. (Laughs) That's pure comedy gold!  (Chuckles) You're no more a hero than old Edgar here, you've just got fancier moves and city smarts, and those don't count for much under present cir-cus-dances.  Uh, now, I was getting close to finishing her up, putting the last few pieces in place, when those last few pieces just up and walked out on me.  Couldn't believe my eyes. I seen some crazy things out here at night. Things with wings and tentacles, and a thousand screaming mouths.  But I ain't never, and I said never, seen scrap metal just up and start walkin'.  That's fucked up. You heard me. Fucked up!  So... it seems I can't get no further with the li'l lady here, not as long as that transformator keeps rebuildin' itself, so I'm stuck out here 'till the cows come home.  And you've seen those cows with your own two eyes, haven't you? I have.  Those cows, they ain't never comin' home.

Mission "Scrapyard Defense" Faction After Action Reports

FROM: The Dragon
TO: Dante Zelas (D17) of the Shadowfang
SUBJECT:Scrapyard Defense

The greatest defense is motion. However, on occasion we must dig in and secure a strategic position. Or perhaps simply give that impression.

The scrapyard is, like its owner, a locus of labour and mystery. Most likely it amounts to nothing, but places of safety are rare in Kingsmouth. As are projects concerned with communal transportation.

In times of death, anything that moves is significant. Either is is an enemy to be killed, or something worth defending.

The Labyrinth (The Illuminati)
TO: Casstiel (Mastigos) of the Five Horsemen
SUBJECT: Scrapyard Defense

I hope you're taking notes on perimeter defense: optimal distribution patterns, damage type ratios, horde management etc. We may need to apply these tactics in the future, to areas that are slightly more high-profile.

That isn't to say the scrapyard is worthless. It may prove an efficient source of materials. And that bus is all that's left of communal transport.

Good thing we've got Agartha.

Ciao-ciao

FROM: Temple Hall
TO: Eos (M-Eos) of Malleus Maleficarum
SUBJECT: Scrapyard Defense

It required the reallocation of resources, but I’ve finally deciphered what the man in the scrapyard was saying. Well, most of it. The Queen’s English has never been so mishandled.

I’m not certain if we’ve preserved anything of value – the bus perhaps? – or simply exercised our tactics. Regardless, defending a perimeter with the aid of various concoctions is a skill that must be mastered. The way things are headed, we may one day have to apply these lessons to preserving Temple Hall from the rabble in Darkside.

Heaven forbid.

R. Sonnac

Mission "Full Metal Golem" Faction After Action Reports

FROM: The Dragon
TO: Dante Zelas (D17) of the Shadowfang
SUBJECT:Full Metal Golem

We are not concerned with appearances, but with reasons and consequences. Others see a metal golem and scamper to react. They are driven by tactics without meaning. We, on the other hand, turn our attention to the sea.

Automatons imbued with life are common; they are made to serve their masters. But in this case, life was not granted by a master; it was the spontaneous consequence of a spark in the air. Everything is linked, and the air links everything.

And so the question persists: what blew this wind in from the sea?

The Labyrinth (The Illuminati)
TO: Casstiel (Mastigos) of the Five Horsemen
SUBJECT: Full Metal Golem

Here's some need-to-know about golemetry: it's magical puppet work; instead of strings, the puppeteer makes use of focused thaumaturgical currents to bring an inanimate being to life.

Edgar doesn't strike me as a closet thaumaturg and there's no one else within a control radius. We've already seen ample evidence of reanimation, but it looks like we need to add spontaneous animation to the list of things gone wrong.

If complex thaumaturgical processes are happening all on their own, it means there's more shit in the wind than we initially forecast.

Ciao-ciao

FROM: Temple Hall
TO: Eos (M-Eos) of Malleus Maleficarum
SUBJECT: Full Metal Golem

I am familiar with golemtry from my days in the Academy. Golems are inanimate beings roused to life in service of a master. Wonderful domestics and sentries, as long as you get the ordinances right.

However, we have few records of golems springing to life independently of a master as appears to be the case here.

If you find other evidence of spontaneous assembly, do let us know. For now, we shall have to file this one under “Something in the Air.”

R. Sonnac