Seeds of Destruction

Author's Note: I had a thought a few weeks ago, and it went something like this: "Plants vs. Zombies is a great game, and pretty family-friendly, considering it's a game about killing zombies...but what if it were a bit darker?" I forgot about that pretty quickly, but a few days ago I remembered it and decided to make a one-shot about it. (Once the Plants vs. Zombies sub-category opens up, this will be moved there, but I digress.) This story is told from the perspective of the game's antagonist. The identity of the antagonist is not revealed until the very last level of the game, however, so I'm prefacing this with a few spoiler warnings. Now that that's out of the way, enjoy this...whatever it is.

I stood on the balcony of my palace and overlooked my dominion. I saw a small urban subdivision crawling with undead. It was a small dominion, granted, but it was mine. I had conquered it with my own two hands. And soon, my army of undead would grant me an empire of two subdivisions. That was what I was expecting, and what I pictured would happen as I stood on the balcony. But I suddenly became aware of a presence behind me. I turned to face him, and saw that it was a general of my army, a Buckethead.

"General. What have I told you about bringing me bad news while I'm on the balcony?" I asked him.

"What makes you think I have bad news, Lord Zomboss?" groaned the zombie slowly, as though it took a great amount of effort to speak…which it did, but that's beside the point.

"You are fiddling with your tie. You only do that when you're nervous, and you're only nervous when you have bad news. Now speak."

"…Our scouting party into the residential complex, Green Thumb…has fallen," he said. I was shocked, but I made no outward indication of this.

"I see," I said. I waited a few moments before continuing. This pause was intended to make it clear to the general that I was not going to "shoot the messenger". After a few moments, I saw the general act relieved, and gathered my message had gotten across. I resumed the conversation. "Were there any survivors?"

"There's one. He's distraught, and he hasn't said a word since he showed up," said the general, his expression hardening. "We've put him in the Padded Room until we can figure out what happened."

"I see. Take me to the survivor. I will attempt to communicate with him."

"You look like Hell, soldier." The zombie in front of me, a Normal Zombie, was indeed worse for wear. He was bruised and battered in several places, and his left arm appeared to have been ripped in twain, leaving a ragged stump in its place with half of the bone exposed. He was sitting in the corner of the room, and made no indication I was there. "Now, I'm going to guess that your battalion was slain by some unknown enemy, and beat you to within an inch of your life…figuratively speaking…and you just barely managed to flee. That would explain the severed head you've been staring at for the past three minutes." The Zombie said nothing.

"Who…or what…did this to you, soldier?" Slowly, deliberately, the Zombie stood up, picked up the severed head of his colleague, and turned to face me. He took a few steps towards me and gingerly held the head out to me.

"…No thanks, I already ate," I said. The Zombie shook his head. "…Then what do you want me to do with it?" The Zombie opened his mouth. I reluctantly took the head from him. The Zombie returned to his corner, crouched into a ball, and covered his face with his hands. I opened the mouth of the head the Zombie had given me. I saw a strange object between its teeth…

I exited the room. The General was waiting for me. He wasted no time.

"Well? What happened to his unit?" I looked down, sighed, then looked back up to meet the General's gaze.

"Tell me, General…do you know what this is?" I asked him. I lifted the object I was holding to his eye level.

"…A leaf, sir?"

"That is correct. But it's not the answer I'm looking for. This is a very specific type of leaf. I would explain how I know this, but I know you don't care, so I'll make this brief." The General flinched at this, but said nothing. "It can only be found on a very unique plant. A sentient plant called a Peashooter."

"A sentient…plant?" said the General.

"Indeed, General," I responded. "A sentient plant."

"…Forgive my impudence, Lord Zomboss, but…what does 'sentient' mean?"

"It means the plant can think."

"…Oh. That...makes more sense than what I was thinking," said the General, embarrassed. I decided not to go into the details.

"The Peashooter is a simple being. It has the ability to create gigantic peas and fire them at approaching creatures it views to be hostile. Hence, its name. Now…do you know where I found this Peashooter leaf?"

"No, Lord Zomboss. Where did you find it?"

"The survivor was carrying a severed head. And this leaf was in its mouth."

"So the head's owner tried to eat a plant before he died. What of it?" asked the General, acting calm.

"The army was sent to scout out Green Thumb, and not attack anything unless it attacked them first. Peashooters will surely recognize a horde of zombies as a threat, and must have fired upon the crowd. The horde would have interpreted this as coming under fire, and would have tried to kill the Peashooter. But not one of the zombies has returned, save the man in the padded cell behind me. Therefore, this Peashooter…a plant…killed every zombie we sent, save one."

"Fair enough. But that doesn't explain the leaf," responded the General.

"I'm getting to that. The Zombies wouldn't have given in without a fight. This is what I think happened. One Zombie got close enough to strike the Peashooter, and having no time to come up with anything else, attempted to eat it. The Peashooter had wounded the Zombie by that point, and shot a pea that killed him. His head must have rolled back to the survivor. Then the Peashooter set its sights on him. The survivor panicked, grabbed the head, and ran. That's my estimation of what happened."

"Good God…But why? Peashooters are native to South America. They wouldn't grow wild here," said the General.

"Exactly. They don't grow wild. That means someone must have planted this one. A homeowner knew we were coming, and planted a Peashooter in his lawn to defend himself. And you can see the results." The General said nothing. I suddenly became filled with steely resolve. I knew that this homeowner had made things personal.

"General, send a message to my forces across Cemetery Springs. This homeowner is now the target of a full-scale Zombie Invasion. Get any forces you can. Coneheads, Bucketheads, Pole Vaulters—Hell, get Zombonis if you have to. Just get reinforcements!" I commanded, a bit louder that I'd meant to.

"Yes, Lord Zomboss!" said the General, shuffling off to gather reinforcements. I looked down, an evil glower glued to my face.

"Homeowner…" I thought to myself. "Your brains will be mine, and soon, the brains of your neighbors, as well." I slowly walked down the hall, back towards the balcony. "I don't know who you are, or what other monsters you've employed to defend yourself, but this is only one victory. Your success won't last forever. You have incurred the wrath of the zombie horde, my friend…and you have sown the seeds of your own destruction."

FIN