At Beat HQ, there was a man named J. He was an agent, but he had lost his beat. As they called out to him, Morris and Spin moved in.

"Come on J, we need you!" they preached in rehearsed unison. He has to practice his beat techniques, because an agent's work is never done. J sat in the corner of his office, twiddling a lock of red hair in between his fingers, tears streaming from underneath his orange-black sunglasses.

"If only I had been brave enough" he whimpered swankily, he had lost his closest friend Derek in the field, to the explosive after effects of an immense beat. Cthulhu had risen and Derek had heroically decided in sealing him in an alternate dimension through the power of a rousing hip-hop style re-imagining of 'Inca Roads' by Frank Zappa Agent J had arranged for such an occasion. Knowing the result of such an action would be violent combustion, he chose to sacrifice himself in his best buddy's place. J knew he must beat on, for his top lad's memories sake at least. With defiance Agent J rose up, grabbed his castanets and hilariously small violin and rode off, knowing he would in the face extreme danger, and not caring. Agents Morris and Spin gave him endearing and charismatic Dreamworks Animation style smirks, knowing his fondness for utter shit.

"Thanks guys, I needed that" J said, running his slender fingers along his erect pompadour.

"No problem, my goblin" Spin said, "but we've got some serious stuff to take care of".

"We do, huh?" J said, adjusting his sick shades broodingly "well then, I guess it's time for us to get down to business".

"I guess we're back then?" Morris asked J.

"Yeah, I guess I'm back" J said, quite intimidatingly for some reason, maybe he just wanted to sound cool. Then they got on their horses and rode off to the destination the Horse-Sat-Nav took them to.