The Rise and Fall of PBP Chapter One: It Started with a Squid

Our story begins, as Arthur said in the introduction, in early 2014.

Arthur and I were hanging out at my house, and we came across a squid hat, which my family had bought during a trip to Six Flags. We decided to play a game where we were scientists at a laboratory, and a race of headcrab ripoffs parasitic squids was attacking us. Now, the two of us were huge fans of the game Portal, and I was planning on playing the Half-Life games at some point, so we decided that the laboratory was either Aperture or Black Mesa. As neither of us knew a thing about Half Life besides that it took place in the same universe as Portal, we knew nothing about Black Mesa besides that it was Aperture’s rival.

And thus, we chose Aperture. Had we chosen Black Mesa, this would have been Half Life Before Half Life, or HLBHL.

Now, this may seem to be shaping up into the series that we know. However, there are several differences between the original LARP and the stories that Arthur later posted to his blog. For example, it took place in modern Aperture, rather than the 1950s, like the first stories on the blog. In addition, we came up with the idea that a scientist had activated GLaDOS to stop the squids, and then she had gassed the facility to kill the squids, which also killed the scientists. Also, rather than GLaDOS orbiting the Earth for 30 years, then falling to Earth, in the LARP she basically just happened to land in Arthur and Jason’s car. Also, Chell wasn’t a part of the story until the second season.

In addition, the story of the original LARP followed the story of the Portal games much more closely. It was also much more silly and ridiculous. Originally, we moved the story to during the events of Portal 2 by saying that we escaped Aperture and then for some reason had gone through a time warp.

The second season was mostly the same, with the same old zombie apocalypse and Black Mesa bunkers. It revolved around us trying to survive and rebuild civilization.

The first two seasons were pretty dumb, but we were having a lot of fun with it. It was the first series we had done that had a feeling of togetherness.

Then came Season 3, what we consider the Golden Age of PBP. But that’s another story for another time.

ZQ Retold Part 5: A Discovery

Warning: Mild graphic content

“Who would do that?”, Tyler asked incredulously after Caleb told him what he and Abe had seen.

The corpse lay on the garage floor, next to the car. It’s chest had been ripped open.

Caleb ran to the house, looking for something he could use to get the corpse outside. He grabbed a garden trowel from a tool rack hanging on the wall, in case there were Goblins in the house.
A few minutes later, the door of the house burst open. Caleb ran out, his trowel dripping blue. He was followed by a Goblin giving chase, clubs in their hands.

“Sorry!”, he shouted to Abe and Tyler as the Goblin swung at him, burying its club in the garage wall.

Outside, a strange, wooden cart the size of a minivan came to a stop outside the house. A small area atop the cart was just big enough for, and was occupied by, two Goblins, bows at the ready.

An arrow whizzed past Abe, striking the license plate. He jumped away, running to the garage door buttons. He pushed the one marked with a red arrow pointing down. It slowly slid shut, as the Goblins in the cart fired arrow after arrow at Tyler and Caleb, pinned against the car by the Goblin from the house.

“Caleb!”, Abe shouted to him. “Goblins have a weak spot in the-”

“Stop telling us what to do!”, Caleb yelled as he kicked down the Goblin. He grabbed its club, and swung. To his surprise, the club was quite heavy. As he swung it, it flew out of his hands and skittered across the ground, out of his reach.

The Goblin walked towards Caleb and Tyler. Abe ran to their aid. Suddenly, pain shot through his leg.

Abe screamed, looking around for the assailant. It was one of the Goblins from the cart, standing in the open door, holding him at bowpoint.

The bow-wielding Goblin slowly entered the garage, keeping its bow trained on Abe. It was followed by the second archer, who pointed its bow at Caleb and Tyler.

“Taqua ral hek rycelikar”, the club-wielding Goblin told the archer guarding Tyler and Caleb. “Yokrah hek mytoriak”, he added

Several minutes later, the archer returned. Behind him was another Goblin.

The new arrival was bedecked in armor made of an unidentifiable metal. In its left hand, it held a broadsword, made from the same metal as the armor. On the Goblin’s back, a hilt indicated another sword strapped to the back. It wore a satchel that seemed to be made of the same material as the Goblins tunics.

It must be one of the leaders, Abe thought as the armored Goblin shouted orders to the other three.

The two archers motioned to Abe, Caleb, and Tyler, gesturing towards the wall. On the wall was a broken window with a pile of broken glass on the floor below it, and a shelf overflowing with flower pots and still more gardening tools. It rested on two tired-looking, rusty metal supports.
As the leader looked on, the club-wielding Goblin and one of the archers moved Abe, Caleb, and Tyler into position. Abe couldn’t help but notice that they were right beneath the shelf.

The leader rummaged around in its satchel, and produced a rolled-up piece of parchment. Excitement crossed the leaders eyes, as if it had been preparing for this moment all their life.

“Alyek hek rysar bek Kuromao. . .”, the leader read in a lofty, dignified tone. Underneath its armor, Tyler thought he saw its chest swelling, as if every word the Goblin read caused its ego to grow. The archer aiming at the boys rolled its eyes.

“Guys! Let’s escape while they’re distracted”, Tyler hissed to Abe and Caleb.

“Shhh! They’ll hear!”, Abe hissed back, pointing to the Goblins.

“They don’t understand English!”, Caleb whispered to Tyler.

Abe darted to the door, and out of the garage. . .

. . .in his mind. What actually happened is best explained in a step-by-step list.

1. As he starts to run, he notices an empty can of Plateau Dew™®© brand soda lying on the ground, which he. . .
2. . . .trips on, landing face-first in the pile of broken glass. This catches the attention
3. of. . .
4. . . .the Goblin archers, who. . .
5. . . .fire their bows and. . .
6. . . .miss Abe. . .
7. . . .instead hitting. . .
8. . . .one of the shelf supports, which. . .
9. . . .falls onto the floor, causing the shelf to. . .
10. . . .give way, showering Abe with broken flower pots.

Abe lay on the ground, writhing in pain. He heard footsteps coming towards him. It was probably the Goblins, coming to finish him off.

“Hello, Abe”, said a crisp, female voice.

ZQ Retold Part 4: It Burns

The roar had come from downtown, and was growing in sound.

Tyler was the first to see it: a crimson, winged lizard gracefully soaring towards them through a sky full of smoke from the buildings downtown. As it approached them, Abe and Tyler could make out rows of teeth in the lizard’s mouth, and a leather saddle atop it. On the saddle sat a Goblin with reigns. It would have looked quite pretty if it weren’t screaming bloody murder and shooting fire everywhere.

Tyler and Abe ran for cover inside as a fireball slammed into a minivan outside the house.

“Well, there’s no hope of taking that thing down”, said Caleb, lying on the basement couch.

“We managed to kill that giant, this shouldn’t be much harder”, said Abe.

“Except the giant didn’t fly. Or breath fire”, Tyler replied. “We should wait this one out. That thing will go away eventually.”

Suddenly, the smoke alarm sounded. All three of them ran upstairs and were greeted with the smell of smoke. Caleb looked up the stairs, and, to his horror, saw orange flames making their way down the stairs, consuming them as they came.

“That dragon thing set the house on fire! We gotta get out of here!”, shouted Abe as a flaming chunk of banister came loose and fell onto the couch, instantly igniting it.

Outside, the dragon had left them for dead, and was currently leveling a nearby park.

Tyler scanned the surroundings, searching for shelter. It was far from easy, as many of the nearby houses had been severely damaged. An SUV with a large trailer caught his eye.

“We can take shelter in that!”, he shouted as he ran to the trailer, Abe and Caleb close behind.

The trailer reeked of moldy tuna and gunpowder. Abes activating of a lantern bolted to the wall quickly revealed why.

The tuna smell was emanating from a mini-fridge wedged in the back of the trailer between a steamer trunk and a stack of cardboard boxes. A bulletin board was hung above a small desk, covered with posters insulting various minorities. The trailer floor was littered with ammunition for various guns. Near the desk, a tablet lay face-down on the floor. Caleb picked it up, revealing the screen to be shattered.

“This belongs to Kevin. I’ve seen it parked outside his house”, said Abe, kicking a rusty bullet across the floor.

“There might be some weapons in there”, said Tyler, gesturing to the trunk. We could stop the dragon with them.

Caleb walked over to the trunk, plugging his nose as he neared the fridge, and tried to open it.

“Locked”, he called to them.

Suddenly, the dragon buried its claws into the trailer roof, then tore it off. Sunlight slammed into the group’s eyes like a fist, blinding them. In a second, the world came into focus again.

The dragon lunged for them. Abe and Caleb leapt out of the trailer, their hearts pounding.

“Wait!”, Caleb screamed as he ran from the dragon. “Wheres-”

A piercing scream answered his question. Tyler stumbled out of the trailer, clutching his right hand. Abe noticed blood trickling from the hand, and ran over to Tyler.

“Get to the garage!”, shouted Abe as he ran. “The dragon’s stuck! We’ve got to get to a doctor!”

The Jones’ garage had escaped relatively unscathed from the Goblin assault. A window had been broken, but that was all. The family minivan, a squat, grey vehicle, gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the windows.

“Get in back. The phone lines are down, so I guess we’ll have to drive you to the hospital”, Abe told Tyler as Caleb rested against the closed garage door. “What did the dragon do to you, anyway?”, Abe asked as he helped Tyler into the van.

“It bit one of my fingers. I think part of it came off”, murmured Tyler, still clutching his hand, trying to stop the blood.

“Guys, I can’t hear fighting anymore. I think we can open the garage door”, called Caleb. Abe strode over to the buttons next to the door, and pushed the top one, marked with an arrow facing up.

The door slowly slid open, revealing the sun setting on a new world.

The office building that would have obscured the sun had collapsed, revealing a gorgeous sunset. Over in the downtown, the fires had stopped, and only a few wisps of smoke still wafted through the purple sky. Off in the distance, a few Dragons could be seen scouring the city, along with. . .zeppelins? The view was strange and scary, yet strangely beautiful.

“Do you see that?”, asked Abe to Caleb.

“Those zeppelins? Yeah, we should be careful if the Goblins have that kind of tech”, Caleb told him.

Abe looked towards the mangled, metal heap that had been, up until an hour ago, a trailer. To his shock, the dragon was gone.

“Caleb!”, he yelled.

“Keep your voice down!”, Caleb hissed back. “There might be a Goblin nearby!”

Abe opened the car door to see if Tyler was okay. He had fallen asleep, and the bleeding had stopped.

“I’m going to search the backyard for food. Call me if you need me”, Caleb said, walking out of the garage.

The backyard was in ruins. The grass was littered with debris: broken card tables, chairs, snack foods, sports equipment, Goblin weapons, and more. The giant lay on the ground, dead as ever. Its fall had destroyed most of the fence separating the Jones’ house from the one next door.
Caleb walked through the yard, searching for food. He picked up a bag of Toridos, which had been ripped open by something. He picked it up, noticing that two-thirds of the bag had been eaten.

After twelve minutes, Caleb returned to the garage, carrying several bags of pretzels and chips, along with an unopened box of XXTREME-CHOCO-MEGA-LOW-FAT-LITE-COOKIES.

“So, we’ll be surviving the apocalypse on junk food?”, asked Abe, eyeing his glowing cookie.

“There’s lots of food in the house, but there’s probably Goblins there”, Caleb replied. “Wait, I just remembered that Mom left some food in the car. I’ll go get it”, he said, walking to it. Suddenly, he screamed.

The Cow Chronicles Part 4: The Confronation

Farmer Joe’s farm was surrounded by a worn-out, wooden fence. A few years ago, he had tried to build a barbed-wire topped wall around the farm to protect the cows, but the zoning commissioner had put a stop to that idea. Not to mention, the cows decided that living inside a barbed-wire fence would make the farm feel like a forced-labor camp, rather than a dairy farm. So protection of the farm had remained in the hands of the old fence. That is, until a convoy of government vehicles smashed through it, reducing the fence to splinters.

Agent Wachowski drove his SUV through the rolling field, his eyes scanning every last blade of grass for the threat, whatever it was. The laser cows lay on the ground, lifeless as rocks.

Farmer Joe watched on in horror as the harsh headlights swept over the farm. He frantically ran to his wardrobe, and, with some difficulty, heaved out a dirty metal safe. He punched in the combination, and pulled out a small cardboard box. "To Farmer Joe, From FGB", the peeling mailing label read. He thrust the lid off, and pulled out a plastic, fish-shaped weapon.

Once Farmer Joe was outside, the staff sprang to life. A camera located in the fish’s eye scanned the area for heat signatures, and fired something into the air.

Meanwhile, the government arrived at the farm. CIA agents sprang out of them, and ran towards Farmer Joe, aiming guns at him.

“What’s the meaning of this? You know me! I’m Farmer Joe! I thought you boneheads swore to protect me and the cows!”, Farmer Joe shouted, pointing his fish-staff at the agents.

“We did no such thing”, Agent Wachowski said, calmly walking towards the farmer.

“Did too!”, Farmer Joe replied. “As I remember, the government promised to provide protection for me and the cows! You can’t just walk back on something like that!”

“We can and we have”, replied Agent Wachowski, producing a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. “We’re under new management, and have been for quite some time. According to a person around here, you have terrorist connections.”

Farmer Joe narrowed his eyebrows. His finger tensed on a button on the fish-staff.

Slowly, a wicked grin crept across his face. He looked up into the black, cloudy sky. Agent Wachowski lowered his assault rifle, confused.

“Why are you smiling? We’ve uncovered your plot, you filthy terrorist!”, barked Agent Wachowski, confusion quickly turning to anger on his face.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?”, asked Farmer Joe, calmly leaning against the farmhouse wall.

“No! I’ve been a government agent for eleven years! I fear nothing! I have become a soulless killing machine, with no desire other than to serve my Director and my Agency! I know no emotions but rage, patriotism, and love of country music! The word fear has no meaning to me!”

“If you actually weren’t scared, you would have detained me by now”, replied Farmer Joe.

“I WAS GETTING TO THAT!!!”, Agent Wachowski roared, running towards Farmer Joe. Farmer Joe pressed the button on his fish-staff.

Through the dense clouds that shrouded the night sky, a glowing, white dot marked where the moon was. This dot was joined by a second, which was smaller and pulsating red.

A laser beam fired from this dot, towards Agent Wachowski. There is no point going into detail about his death, as he ceased to exist in precisely 0.00000000000034 seconds.

Sitting about 8 meters away from Farmer Joe’s house was his barn. Like the fence and house, it was old and wooden. Farmer Joe dashed behind the barn, machine gun fire ricocheting off the barn walls. Why was it that nobody in the government could fire a straight shot?, he thought to himself as he arrived at his destination.

The barn was built into a hill. Also built into that hill was a flight of concrete steps descending to a rock wall, into which was set a steel door. Above the door, TOP SECRET was stenciled in jet-black lettering. Next to the door was a small, green button.

Farmer Joe ran up to the button and jabbed it. Somewhere behind the door a buzzer went off.

“Moo?”, a voice said from a small grey speaker above the buzzer. Farmer Joe recognized that the moo had come from Mr. Chuckles, one of the most important cows.

“Let me in, Mr. Chuckles! It’s me, Farmer Joe! I’m on the run, tell you about it inside.

“Moo”, Mr. Chuckles replied.

The door opened onto a wide, low-ceilinged hallway, stretching as far as the eye could see. The wall was lined with doors. A few were open, revealing hotel-esque rooms with panicking cows inside of them. On the ceiling, yellow lights shone, occasionally flickering. Farmer Joe closed the bunker door and stood there, surveying the scene.

Several years ago, some people from New York had attempted to steal Farmer Joe’s cows. Due to this, Farmer Joe had built a bunker and escape tunnel that was capable of sheltering or evacuating the cows. All 2,039,535,096,458,234 of them. Farmer Joe had forgotten where the escape tunnel led, as he had never had to use it. Every time the cows had to go to the tunnel, they simply had to wait out the threat. A chill ran down Farmer Joe’s spine as he realized he and the cows might have to go through the ancient door at the end of the tunnel that was lettered FOR EVACUATION PURPOSES ONLY.

Although most of the rooms in the tunnel were shelters, there was a single door labeled COMMAND CENTER. It was out of that door that Mr. Chuckles came, wearing a military hat, and flanked by two other cows.

“Moo”, Mr. Chuckles told Farmer Joe.

“I see. By the way, can you put your translator mask? My cow-speak is a little bit rusty”

“Moo. . .”, Mr. Chuckles replied, rolling his eyes and walking into the command center. He returned a few minutes later wearing a bulky, plastic mask with a speaker sticking out of it.

“Come into the command center”, Mr. Chuckles told Farmer Joe, gesturing to the door. He followed the farmer into a massive, cavernous room.

The command center was an enormous, dome beneath the hill behind the barn. Inside, rows of desks gently sloped down to a platform where a desk with two chairs sat. At each of the desks stood a cow furiously typing away on a holographic computer. Three massive screens loomed over everything. One was a satellite map of the area surrounding the farm, another showed various views from security cameras around the farm, and the third showed a live feed of Channel 32⅓, a cable channel that broadcast nothing but a commercial for some sort of ladder over and over. Bob Bovinius IV, one of the workers had an extreme obsession with ladders, and had forced Farmer Joe and Mr. Chuckles to install a massive screen broadcasting Channel 32⅓ so he could always see a ladder.

Mr. Chuckles arrived at a desk with a nameplate reading “Mr. Chuckles: Head of Bovine affairs.” Beside this desk was another, with a nameplate reading “Farmer Joe: Supreme Farmer”

“So, all of the cows are down here?”, Farmer Joe asked.

“All 2,039,535,096,458,234 of them”, said Mr. Chuckles.

Farmer Joe switched on a microphone that sat on his desk. “Your attention please.”, he said. The cows instantly quieted down. “Now, I suppose all of you are wondering: What on earth is happening?” There were murmurs of agreement from several cows.

“You see, the leader of the CIA has decided that I am a terrorist, and his agents have taken over the farm.”

At this, shock rippled through the crowd, with many a startled “MOO!” ringing out.

“Stop! This is no cause for alarm!”, Farmer Joe bellowed over the panicking cows. “These people have no knowledge of this location. We’ll be safe in the tunnel until they call off their search. I doubt they’ve even found the-”

Suddenly, the panic in the air was magnified tenfold. A buzzing noise rang over the loudspeakers. The bunker door had been discovered. “Who’s in there? Open up!”, a voice shouted. “We’re with the U.S. Government! We have you surrounded, terrorist scum!”

Horror swept over the command center. Cows ran from their desks and out of the center. Several began frantically pushing every button on every console. Alarms wailed. The video screens flickered on and off. John Piggynose’s hit song “Slaughterhouse Rock” blasted over the loudspeakers, lurching between volumes.

Before long, Farmer Joe and Mr. Chuckles were the only two left in the room.

“Wait. What’s that government guy saying?”, asked Mr. Chuckles, pressing his ear against the nearest loudspeaker. Fear crossed his face.

“We have to warn the cows. They’re going to blow down the door. We have to evacuate. It’s time to use the escape door”

TRAFOPBP and other stuff

So, I have recently begun a series called "The Rise and Fall of PBP", or TRAFOPBP. As I previously stated, the series is going to be about the history of PBP, the first big project Arthur and I worked on together. This also marks the first non-story series on my blog (unless you count Bulletins from the Bunker), and the first series I started since returning to the blog.

Just a heads up, stories will take precedent, I won't post TRAFOPBP as often as Cow Chronicles or ZQ Retold. This is partly because I want to keep the focus of this blog on stories, and also because TRAFOPBP takes a long time to write.

As for Bulletins from the Bunker, the future of that is uncertain. On one hand, it was little more than an excuse for not writing while I was getting over some problems. On the other hand, I have a few ideas on how to turn it into a full-fledged series, so that may come eventually.

Also, at least one new story series is coming this summer, so keep your eyes peeled for that.

So, in the meantime, I just wanted to rattle off a quick update.

~Astatanius

(P.S: I'm signing off all of my updates from now on with "~Astatanius". If any other format is used, the source of the post is likely A: an alien invader trying to infiltrate our society, B: a government agent, or C: a typo)

The Rise and Fall of PBP: Introduction

Sorry about the lack of stories. I was having computer trouble. . .

Introduction by Arthur Borglestein

PBP. Those three letters bring back so many memories. Mostly bad memories, yeah, but memories nonetheless. PBP is one of the first long-running story serials that I ever did, and it was almost certainly the first to have a coherent plot. The first season all started when Astatanius and I were hanging out as his house one day in the Winter of 2013.

He and I were both fans of the Portal games at the time, and we decided to do a LARP game based on them. We started off with a simple plot involving mutant squids, Aperture Science, Black Mesa, zombies, Chell, GLaDOS, Arthur, and Jason. Arthur was originally a robot who could turn into a human, but I eventually scrapped his robot form and just made him into a dude with a robot arm.

The series’ first two seasons weren’t great, but they were good enough for us to do a third, early into the Summer of 2013. The third season kicked butt. Even today, 3 years later, I still remember that season being some of the most fun I’ve ever had doing anything.

The plot involved two main antagonists: Blathkalgians and Lonely Ones. Blathkalgians were aliens who disguised themselves as policemen and had tentacle arms. The Lonely Ones are the best monsters I’ve ever come up with. They’re dark black humanoids who distort their shape randomly. They come from a parallel dimension on the other side of mirrors and kill people.

We did an episode or two set in a United States Government hangar/experimental aircraft testing facility (we used a local plane museum as the setting for this RP, and managed to stay discreet enough to not embarrass ourselves). The ‘airbase episode’, as we called it, was a classic, and I’m planning to do a similar episode in The New Adventures.

After Season 3, things began to go downhill. Season 4 followed the adventures of the heroes as they fought against the Minnids, a race of evil time-traveling aliens. It wasn’t as awesome as it could have been, but we still had fun with it. Then Summer ended, and the worst school year of my life began.

During this year, I changed, and became a pretty awful person. I tried to be ‘serious’ and ‘dark’. This was partially due to my obsession with ‘The X-Files’, which is generally a pretty serious show. Sadly, that meant that everything that had made PBP what it was was gone. It was a poorly-done X-Files ripoff created by a crazy kid.

I wrote concepts for 70+ four-episode seasons, with fifty in PBP, and twenty in the spinoff series ‘Future’ and ‘Varilum’. These episodes were mainly based around the idea that aliens were trying to colonize or take over Earth, and that the United States Government was helping them. So yeah, it was the X-Files, but written horribly.

About 20 seasons in, I removed Aperture and GLaDOS from the plot. Very few of the series’ Portal roots remained. PBP was now nothing but a crappy X-Files ripoff. At one point, I brought Aperture back, but had Arthur take it over, which, of course, completely changed how the place operated.

In conclusion, PBP was great and I ruined it. Sorry about that.

-Arthur Borglestein

The Cow Chronicles Part 3: Infiltration

It was midnight in Washington, D.C., and the Director of the CIA was happily dreaming of his childhood bullies being lined up and executed by firing squad.

Suddenly, a stab of cold yanked the Director into reality. He looked into the face of Phil, the CIA secretary.

“There’s an emergency, sir. We’ve gotten a call. Some guy says there’s a bunch of terrorists”.

“Why do these things always have to happen when I’m dreaming?”, the Director grumbled as he stumbled out of bed and shuffled down the hallway of his house to a small, white hatchback waiting outside his house.

The CIA Director lived in a housing development called Conformity Cove. It consisted of identical, row houses, eight of which were packed into one of 800 identical blocks. The only plants in Conformity Cove were elm trees, two per backyard. Even the trees were identical, with the owner of the development ordering that every tree be cloned from a single tree’s DNA. The development owner had originally wanted to require tenants to receive plastic surgery so they all looked the same, but that decision proved to be unpopular. To sum it up, the owner of Conformity Cove thought everything was better when it was the same.

“Sir, isn’t it odd that you’ve headed this agency for seven years now, but you’ve never told anyone here your name?”, asked Phil as the Director maneuvered the hatchback into a parking space at the CIA headquarters.

“Nonsense, Phil”, the Director replied. “In fact, refusing to tell people my name shows how good I am at this job. CIA Directors are supposed to keep secrets, so a person who keeps even their name secret must be perfect for the job.”

Meanwhile, it was 2 AM over Farmer Joe’s farm. Farmer Joe was fast asleep in his house. And all 2,039,535,096,458,234 of Farmer Joe’s cows were asleep in the secret bunker beneath the barn. Well, except for Bob W.K. Jenkins, who had a bad case of insomnia. The robotic laser cows made their rounds across the pastures, scanning for any would-be cow thief. All was peaceful and quiet.

Suddenly, something caught the eye, well, camera, of Laser Cow 32. As the laser cows were programmed by Farmer Joe himself, to shoot anything that moved, the cow fired a laser at the thing. Whatever it had once been, it was now nothing but subatomic dust.

“We lost contact with the drone, Director”

CIA operative Richard Wachowski sat in the back seat of an armored vehicle parked at a cliff overlooking the farm. Two tiny screens were in front of them. One showed static, with TRANSMISSION LOST flashing across the screen. The other was a live communications feed with the Director back in Washington.

“We’ve got a stealth jet flying over the farm, and there seems to be an advanced weapons system. We’ll need to fire an EMP rocket.”

Richard pushed open the door of the armored vehicle, and ran to the trunk of the vehicle. He opened it up, and pulled out a rocket launcher.

The farm slid into focus as the crosshairs of the launcher’s scope moved over the farm pasture. Richard moved his finger onto the trigger, and fired.

The EMP rocket sailed through the air, the ground rushing towards it.

As it entered the farms airspace, an alarm began to wail. Farmer Joe leapt from his bed, running to his window. Through the smudged glass, he saw the laser cows galloping across the field to defend the cows from a target unseen by the naked eye.

In unison, the laser cannons within the cows began to warm up.

It was too late.

The EMP rocket plowed into the ground a few yards away from the laser cows. As the trigger on the nose of the bomb worked its magic, an electromagnetic pulse spread across the farm.

Farmer Joe could only watch in horror as the life left the laser cows’ eyes.

Meanwhile, Agent Wachowski stepped back into the armored van as the Director spoke.

“The security system is down. We’re going in.”