Chapter One: Original Dimensions

[Zennshi Dormu]

"A mind that has been stretched to fit a new idea will never return to its original dimensions."
-Albert Einstein

It was mid-November in Chicago, and a thin layer of snow had accumulated the day before, only to have promptly been pressed down into thicker snow by footprints and tire tracks. At the corner grocery store where he worked, Richard Angel was nearly done his shift for the day. It was only eight in the evening, but the clouds were making it darker and Richard was already exhausted. Or bored out of his mind. He wasn't certain which. Nobody seemed to come by this late on a Tuesday. His mind wandered, he started staring at the freezer full of ice cream, but he wasn't really paying any attention to it. He was lost in thought, staring past the freezer. Every thought about how much he hated this job only brought him back to how he had gotten himself here in the first place. He had tried so hard to forget, but there it was, clear in his mind as always. He could remember everything he saw. The lights, the shadows, the colours, the smells. He had never had a dream where he smelled anything. That's how he knew it wasn't all in his head.

Richard's train of thought was abruptly derailed by a 9mm pistol orienting its barrel towards his face. Holding onto the barrel was a hand, owned by a man in a black ski mask and glasses.

"Hello!" The man said in a loud and scathingly sarcastic tone, "I'm robbing you!"

Richard, having been through much worse in his time as a Marine, remained calm. He didn't have a weapon on him, and the robber was too far away for an easy disarm. The counter prevented him from leaping forward and closing the distance. "Open the register!" He shouted with a much less civil demeanor. Richard was about to do so when the two of them heard a glass smash. The robber spun around toward the disturbance in seconds. A bottle of soda had fallen off of a shelf. He was about to turn back to face Richard when he heard footsteps.

"Okay... okay!" He yelled, "Whoever that is better come out right now or I'm gonna shoot this asshole, and then I'll come and find you."

And then a bolt of white light appeared out of thin air inches away from Richard's head and struck the robber in the back. The man choked for air, then made no noise at all. He turned around slowly to look at Richard. His glasses slipped off of his face and broke upon hitting the ground, allowing Richard to see his frightened and pained eyes. The startled store clerk found out why a second later. The man's torso had begun to turn a sickly greyish-brown. The brown colour slowly creeped up the man's body, to his head, arms, and finally legs. Then, where the man had been struck, the wound began to convert to a sickly greyish-brown dust. His entire midsection was disintegrating. The man collapsed to his knees, grasping the front counter. He looked up into Richard's eyes before his head turned to dust as well, and with his body went part of the counter where he had touched it, and part of the floor where he had collapsed. All that remained of this man and his gun was a prodigiously small pile of warm grey dust.

Richard had called the police after that, and the store was now full of police officers. Everyone was asking him if he was certain a man had been in here, because there was no evidence to suggest there was ever anyone in here.

"Hello, officers," Two men flashed FBI badges and entered the scene, "We'll take it from here, if it's alright." The confused policemen left the small corner store and the two men began their business. They were caucasian, one was blonde, the other was brown-haired. The blonde one approached Richard whilst the other man searched around for evidence, "Mister Angel, I am agent Ingles and this is agent Wayland. We're from the FBI, and we're only here to ask you a couple of questions. The first question is did you-"

The agent was interrupted by the other one, who was rubbing the brown dirt between his fingers, "Ingles, we've got S-dust." He said.

Ingles didn't react to this, and kept his polite expression, but said, "Are you absolutely positive?"

Wayland nodded, "Look at the table and the floor. It's S-dust. I'd say 105-110 Range. This is for real."

"What are they doing knocking off petty criminals?" Ingles turned around to ask him.

"Who?" Richard finally asked.

They both turned to look at him. "Mister Angel," Ingles told him, "I believe you. A man did die in your store today. Wayland and I are going to need you to come down to the station with us and ask you some more questions."

---

Anna Gate was walking home through downtown. She was looking up at the dark cloudy sky. There was something oddly appealing about dark cloudy nights that she couldn't pinpoint. She crossed a mostly empty intersection, taking care to watch her step for ice. She stopped to look into the window of a shop. She couldn't see what was inside, the windows had frosted over. Whatever was inside, it must have been very bright. In fact, the entire window was lighting up. Anna then noticed her hand was illuminated as well. The light wasn't coming from inside the shop, it was coming from behind her.

With greater reflexes than she was aware she had, Anna heard the roar of a car's engine in time to jump out of the way. It smashed through the window of the store. It was a chocolate shop.

"Are you crazy?!" Anna shouted, "I could have been killed! Who do you think you...." Anna opened the car door to find the vehicle empty, "....Are?"

She then noticed the wall behind her was lit up again. She saw two more cars aimed at her. They went full speed toward her. Again, she moved her feet fast. So fast in fact, she slipped on the ice she had just walked over and fell onto her side. The cars were still coming at her, and she had not the collectedness to scream, only choke on her own breath as the wind was knocked out of her by the fall. Both cars stopped dead in their tracks, and the hoods of both cars smashed and accordioned, as though they had slammed into a brick wall that wasn't there. Anna lay there, confused and scared, until she heard a voice. At least, she thought she heard it. But it was not altogether sound.

Anna Gate. Run.

She snapped back into focus and got up as fast as she could. She ran down the alleyway. She didn't look back until she was at the other end. Nothing had followed her, car or otherwise. She made it back home without incident, although flinching at every other car she saw go past. She sat down on her bed, uncertain what had just happened, when she got a knock on her door.

"Hello, Ma'am. I'm agent Simmons, I'm with the FBI. I understand you've just been part of a serious car accident?"

"What?" She asked, not really knowing what else to say.

"Well, you weren't in a car obviously," Simmons said, "But there was an accident. Don't worry, you're not in any trouble, I just need you to come back down to the station and give me a quick run-down on the facts, okay?"

"You found me pretty quick." She commented.

"A witness pointed us in the right direction, Ms. Gate." He replied simply.

"How do you know my name?" She asked.

"You dropped your wallet." He pointed out, producing it from his pocket and giving it back to her.

"Oh. Thank you." She said.

"I'll take you downtown and we'll get this sorted out, okay?"

---

Kent Ableman awoke from his dream. There was something about a blizzard and men in dark suits. A disembodied voice spoke to him and told him to "make the right choice", whatever that meant. He looked at the clock. 8:19 PM. He had been napping for too long. He looked over to see his wife sleeping next to him. Why had they felt so tired today all of a sudden? He still felt ready to doze off again. But he couldn't because at that moment the doorbell rang. He looked back at the woman on his bed, still fast asleep. He smirked, and then walked downstairs to the door. He opened it to see an FBI agent's badge, and a blonde-haired man behind it, "Hello, I'm agent Ingles with the FBI, are you Mr. Ableman?" Snow blew in from outside into the house.

"I am." He said.

"Mr. Ableman, we've been getting reports that people were seeing strange lights above your house, so we came to investigate. Do you know anything about this bag we found on your front lawn?"

"What ba-?" Kent looked past Ingles toward the lawn where several other FBI personnel were gathered, around a big black bag, just the right size for a body.

"I don't know anything about that." He said bewilderedly, "I swear, on the record, I don't know what's in it or how it got there."

"Then you won't mind if we take a look inside it?" Ingles questioned.

"Of course not, it's not even mine." Kent replied.

Ingles nodded and walked over to the bag with the others. He unzipped it quickly, and out billowed steam from the warm body inside. Kent tried to get a closer look, but could only make out the shape of a body in the bag. He stepped outside, his slippers crunched into the snow. A few of the agents took a step or two back, but then Ingles quickly zipped up the bag again and gave the signal for everyone to take it away. They took the body bag and put it into one of their parked vans. Ingles stood by the van with another agent and said something to him while motioning to Kent. The other agent didn't reply. Ingles walked back up to Kent's front porch.

"Not to worry, Mister Ableman," Ingles told him, "You're not in any trouble, but I'll need you to change into something warmer and come with me downtown where I'll ask you a few questions, okay?"

"Yeah....sure....who was in that thing?" He asked.

Ingles' expression became almost sad, "Ah....yes. We'll identify the body back at HQ. Hopefully nobody you knew."

"But what's happening? Who killed that person?" Kent asked.

"I'll explain everything to you when we get there." Ingles reassured him.

---

Dustin Cambridge's first thought when he awoke was that he was not where he was supposed to be. He was in the middle of his apartment. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep on his couch, which was in the other room. How did he get here on the floor? Dustin sat up, wiping the sweat from his brow. As soon as he stood up, he heard a noise. An eerie voice coming not from outside sources but from inside his own head, and it made him jump when he heard it.

Dustin Cambridge.

"Who's that?" He asked, looking around the room.

Answer your telephone.

"What?" Dustin wasn't sure where that voice was coming from yet. The voice did not respond, but a few seconds later his phone rang and startled him again. Confused, he walked over to the phone and lifted it to his ear, "Hello?"

"What is the password?" Came the reply, the same voice he had just heard in his head.

"I....I don't know what you mean." He said.

"Oh. It seems we may have overestimated you."

"What? How?" He asked.

"Nonetheless, you've caught our attention, Dustin."

"Whose attention?"

"You're a very good painter. So good, in fact, that you can paint in your sleep."

"What are you talking about? Who is this...." Dustin sighed, it was clearly a prank call from one of his friends. Before he could call them on it, though, the person on the other end of the line hung up. He picked up the line again, and dialed 411. He wandered off into his bedroom while he asked the operator who had just phoned him. The operator on the other end double checked, and told him that he had not received any phone calls in the last twelve hours, just in time for Dustin to drop the phone because of what he found in his room. On the canvas in front of his bed, where there should have been nothing, there was a painting he couldn't remember making. Dustin turned on the light to get a better look. It was a picture of Chicago. Snow falling, buildings accurate to the most minute detail, and on the horizon was a big grey shadow that stretched from one side of the painting to the other. The shadow, almost like a perfectly flat cloud, was decorated with hundreds of lights. Dustin didn't know what to make of it. He had never painted this...in his waking moments.

Cambridge's door was knocked on loudly. He answered it to see an FBI agent. "Evening, sir. I am agent Browning. Would you mind if I talk to you for a few minutes?"

"What's this about?" Cambridge asked.

"I'm afraid I don't have the liberty to talk about it here, Mr. Cambridge." Browning admitted, "It'd be better if I took you back to HQ for a few minutes. I just want to ask you some questions, you're in no trouble."

Cambridge looked back at the painting through his open bedroom door, and shivered. "Yeah, hold on, I'll get my shoes."

---

"Dammit, where's a flashlight?" Groaned Elizabeth Steele as a sudden power outage occured and the lights went out. She felt her way along the wall to the door. She cautiously walked down the hall, shrouded in pitch darkness Elizabeth felt as though she was about to walk into a wall at any moment. She kept her hands out in front of her as best she could. The lights came back on when she entered the living room, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Then she noticed something on the table that hadn't been there before. It was a small grey pyramidal device with some kind of oddly-shaped handle on the tip. It looked about the size of a baseball. Liz picked it up, it was heavier than she expected, but still easily carried in one hand. It appeared to have no obvious use. She figured it was some paperweight left behind by a friend. She set it back down on the table, and immediately after heard a knock on the door.

"Can I help you?" She asked.

It was a man in a dark suit, he was holding up an FBI badge, "I believe so. Ms. Steele, I presume?"

Liz nodded.

"My name is Agent Finnigan. Ms. Steele, I can't say why I'm here, but I need you to let me into your house right now. I have a judicial warrant to search these premises." He said.

"What would you possibly be looking for in my house?" She wondered aloud, stepping aside to let him in.

Finnigan came in, looked around, and then saw the pyramid paperweight. As soon as he did, he cautiously looked back at her, and then picked it up. "I will need to take this, if that's alright."

"Um, sure, I guess." She said, "I don't even know where it came from."

"I'm also going to need to take you back to Headquarters for a few questions. Nothing serious, I'd just like to get a clear picture."

"Alright, but....what is that thing?" She asked.

"We shouldn't discuss this until we arrive." He told her.

OOC: Next post we skip ahead a few minutes to where everyone is sitting in an FBI interrogation room, just FYI. Your respective agents will arrive shortly to ask you stuff.

[Dallas Mathews]

OOC: I just edited the part where it said Richard was frightened, because he's a fully trained Marine who's seen active combat

IC:

Richard sat quietly in the interrogation room. He had his fingers crossed on the table in front of him, and he was leaning forward, staring at the stainless steel table beneath them. He kept replaying the scene from the store. The man had just disintegrated. Richard was familiar with a number of weapons, and he knew nothing like that was in active use today. That left some sort of secret government project. Or maybe it was them. It would make more sense. The government had no reason to field test an experimental weapon in a grocery store in the rough part of town. It made much more sense that they were still watching him. He reminded himself to never leave home without his Baretta again.

[Whizzles]

Dustin had his head in his hands, trying to remember exactly what had happened. When did he paint the image of Chicago and the odd shape in the sky? Or, more importantly, why did he paint it? Nothing was making sense. Had he slipped and fallen, perhaps knocking himself out in the middle of his apartment? Maybe. That was the only possible solution at this point.

Damnit, he thought, looking up. Maybe you're just overthinking it.

The only thing that troubled him at this point was that Agent Browning was no where in sight and thoughts of loneliness plagued Dustin's mind.

[Zennshi Dormu]

OOC: Lol no no no whiz you guys aren't in the same room.

[Whizzles]

OOC: lol edited.

[Eiji]

Anna sat in a rather uncomfortable chair, tapping her fingertips on the stainless steel table in front of her. She couldn't seem to sit still; the events from the night replaying in her head. What was that weird voice she'd heard, and was that a force field that had stopped those cars? She knew this was paranormal, and she felt to urge to figure out what was going on. The only problem was, where would she start?

I wish that guy would hurry up. I'd like to leave...at least it's quiet in here so I can think.

[Zennshi Dormu]

"Good evening to you, Mr. Ableman." Ingles said as he entered the interrogation room, "Sorry to keep you waiting for so long, I just need to ask you a few questions, you'll be back at home before the hour's over."

"First question, just for the record. You don't know anything about that bag we discovered on your front lawn, correct?"

---

Wayland entered Richard's room and closed the door behind him, "So, first question," He began, Wayland seated himself and continued, "What happened in the minutes leading up to the alleged....disintegration of this assailant?"

---

Agent Browning walked in, almost on cue with the others, "Sorry for the wait, Mr. Cambridge. I'm doing my best to keep this rolling as fast as possible. It's safe for us to talk here."

He sat down, "A few minutes before we arrived at your house, our satellites picked up an unidentified aircraft stop in high orbit around planet earth, and deliver a signal to your very apartment. The aircraft was cloaked against radar, and the only way we saw it at all was on a live camera feed."

Browning paused a moment to adjust his tie, "I'd appreciate it if you could recount the events leading up to that point."

---

"Hello again, Anna. You don't mind if I call you Anna, do you?" Agent Simmons said as he got inside. She didn't reply right away, so Simmons continued, "Now, I just need you to tell me as much as you can remember about the accident, okay?"

---

"Ms. Steele?" Agent Finnigan stepped in, "I'm Agent Finnigan if you forgot, but you can call me Joe. I want you to tell me everything you can about the object we retrieved from your apartment."

---

Agent Dean walked into the room where Michael Grey sat. Michael had straight black hair that reached his chin, and had a slightly asian look to him. "Mr. Grey, I'm just here to ask you a few questions and then we'll send you on your way. First question; what was your business in the hospital?"

"I was visiting a friend." Michael replied.

"Was your friend a patient or an employee?" Dean asked.

"Employee. Jack Philips."

"And what were you visiting Mr. Philips for?"

"I hadn't seen him in a few weeks, just wanted to hang out while he was on his break."

Dean nodded, "Okay. Second question, was Philips or anyone else with you when the east wall of the hospital collapsed?"

"No." Michael replied, "I was heading for the exit by that time."

"Did you see anything out of the ordinary? Besides the collapsing wall, of course."

Michael squinted, searching his memory, then he smirked, "Nothing except the hospital food."

Dean grinned briefly, "Alright. Do you know what may have caused the collapse?"

"No." He answered right away, "I didn't feel any shaking, so it wasn't an earthquake. Building was just old, I guess?"

"That'd be my first guess, too."

Dean produced some grainy photographs from a security camera and showed them to Michael. It was a picture of a balding dark-skinned man in a trenchcoat walking into the hospital, "Mister Grey, did you happen to see this man before, or even after, the collapse?"

Michael looked closely at them, but shook his head.

OOC: can't think of anything else to post lol. You all have questions now, so do that.

[Whizzles]

As Browning adjusted his tie, Dustin remembered the clothing he was wearing and sighed. A white shirt, unbuttoned to halfway down his chest and covered in a myriad of paint stains; ripped khaki pants, about an inch too short; sneakers with visible toes. If it wasn't such a confidential meeting, Dustin would have been embarrassed.

"Listen, Mr. Browning," Dustin spoke. "As much as you probably don't want to hear this, I know just as much as you do about this. I woke up, found myself lying in a sweaty heap in the middle of my apartment, where you..."

Dustin trailed off, remembering the phone call. It was all becoming clear to him while Browning kept a completely straight face, staring deeply at Dustin.

"I heard a voice. Call me crazy, but I heard a voice; it told me to answer my phone. I mean, what the hell, right? Maybe I just hit my head really hard and just had a hard time recovering from the blow. But then my phone starts ringing, and I answer it. Some guy's on the other line asking me if I know 'the password.' I have no idea what he's talking about. Then he tells me that he - or they, rather - overestimated me."

Browning lifted an eyebrow, showing a sign of peaked interest. Dustin continued.

"So I'm standing there, confused as all hell. The guy on the other line then tells me I'm a good painter... tells me I can paint in my sleep. He hangs up, leaving me more confused then ever. I call the operator but I don't get anything out of that. I start to walk around my apartment trying to figure this out when I see a fresh new painting that I think - that I know I never painted before."

Dustin paused to catch his breath and to make mental links between events, trying to make it an easier story to tell and to not make it look as if he was just another crack addict or asylum escapee.

"I don't know if you saw the painting, but it was this beautiful image of the Chicago skyline at night during a light snowfall. Above the city, however, was this gigantic, flat... thing, with a bunch of lights shining from it. Now that I think of it, however, maybe it had to do with your unidentified aircraft...?"

Dustin couldn't tell whether his story was making perfect sense or absolutely none at all.

[Eiji]

Anna put her hands in her lap and started to talk. "I was walking home, when I see the wall of the shop infront of me light up. I thought that was weird, because I was on the sidewalk...and then I heard a car engine. I barely jumped out of the way in time, and it smashed into the wall where I'd just been. So, of course, I'm yelling at the driver and I walk up to the car. But get this...it's empty. I know no one jumped out of the car. I would have seen them.

But then, the wall lights up again. I turn around and two more cars are headed straight toward me. I tried to dodge again, but I slipped on the ice. I couldn't really move or do anything, but they didn't hit me. It looked like they hit a wall that wasn't there; the hoods crumpled and they stopped on impact. I guess I kind of just layed there, confused, until I heard this voice. It wasn't familiar, and it wasn't like someone calling me from the sidewalk. It was kind of...in my head. It told me to run, so I did. Nothing else happened until you came."

[Dallas Mathews]

Richard looked up as the agent entered the room, but remained silent until he asked the first question. He raised an eyebrow at the question but decided to answer anyways.

"The guy was trying to rob me. He told me to open the register, but before I could do anything someone knocked over a bottle or something in one of the aisles. The robber told the other person to come out or he would shoot me, and then there was this flash of light and he started falling apart." Richard said. Before the FBI agent could say anything, he jumped in with some questions of his own. "What's S-dust? I heard you talking about it. You know what did this, don't you?"

[Arctos]

Elizabeth had been completely confused the from she saw that little pyramid, then that weird guy in the suit, and especially once she ended up in this little questioning room. She had been silently tapping her feet on the ground in anticipation, and finally that same, suited man had arrived.

"I don't know a thing about that little trinket. The power went out, and when It came back on, there it was. I looked at it a bit, and then you arrived."

She smiled casually as she flipped her hair from her face,
"Now how about you tell me why you care so much?"

[Genarva]

Kent cocked his head, "Of course not, my wife and I had... Had just..." He paused, looking for the right words, "Got down with it." His brows furrowed, "What was in that thing anyways?"

[Zennshi Dormu]

OOC: OVERestimated, Whiz. They said they OVERestimated you.

IC: Simmons nodded, he believed Anna, "Alright. Have you met any strangers in the last 48 hours?"

---

"Oh, I don't mean to pry into your personal life, sir." Ingles said apologetically. "It was a body bag, Mister Ableman. It is a bag meant for holding bodies. Other than that I'm not allowed to say anymore, because it is an ongoing investigation. Next question: Do you currently own any HAM radioes or similar transmission equipment in your home?"

---

Browning sensed his apprehension, "It's okay, Mr. Cambridge. What is the last thing you remember before you woke up, and how long were you asleep?"

---

"Ms. Steele, I'm not sure if you're aware of this," Finnigan told her, "But the power outage was in fact caused by an electromagnetic pulse emitted from several meters underneath your house. We searched the sewers and found a man-made emission source. Someone intended to cut the power, and leave that item inside your room. I can't tell you any more about the artifact, but it would seem that someone took a fair amount of time in delivering it to you. Have you met any unfamiliar people in the last 48 hours?"

---

Wayland sighed, "I'm authorized to tell you that it is a chemical residue. But really, Mister Angel, if we knew who had done this, would we have bothered to bring you in here?"

The FBI agent ran his hand through his shortish hair and continued, "Frankly, this will go by a lot quicker if you allow me to ask the questions. Could you describe the flash of light?"

[Genarva]

"I'm quite familiar with body bags, thank you very much." Kent rudely replied before moving onto the agents next question, "Not at home, no. But there is a radio in my car at work."

[Arctos]

Elizabeth leaned back and thought for a moment. Her pretty face was marred by dark rings around her eyes, and she clearly looked tired just from how low her shoulders hung.
"I can't remember anyone unusual," she said calmly as she set those piercing eyes on the agent, "but you called that thing an artifact, sir. What on Earth is that thing?"

[Whizzles]

Dustin spent what seemed like forever trying to remember. Was it when he drove Kate to her meeting? No, that was three days ago. The hockey game? No, no, no, he'd gone to the bar after the game. Was that it, maybe?

"I, uh..." stammered Dustin. "I remember going to Santa Maria's after the hockey game. I mean, maybe I just got drunk or..."

Dustin trailed off, realizing perhaps it was best if he let Browning connect the dots.

[Dallas Mathews]

"It was a flash of light, what do you want me to say? Check the security tapes. It was just like, some kind of bolt of white light. It barely missed me. Clearly you know a lot more about this than I do." Richard said to the agent.

[Zennshi Dormu]

"We're reviewing the camera footage right now." Wayland assured him, "We just need to get your side of the story as clearly as we can."

"Third question....your file mentions a discharge from the armed forces. Can you tell me what that was about?" He asked.

---

"Oh, sorry Mr. Cambridge, do you need me to get you some aspirin, or turn down the lights?" Browning offered.

"No, I'm fine." He said.

Browning nodded, "Only one or two more questions. Do you ever get headaches when passing next to radio towers or when using cellular phones?"

---

"Right now, it is evidence." Finnigan told her, "Next question, do street lights occasionally go out when you walk near them?"

---

"Well then, do you have any reasonably-sized pets? Cats, dogs, large lizards, that sort of thing." Ingles asked Kent.

[Dallas Mathews]

Richard leaned away from the table and crossed his arms, scowling. "That doesn't have anything to do with this. If you read my file then you already know what happened. You don't need me to tell you about it."

[Genarva]

Kent's right brow inched upwards, "What? That hardly seems like it has any significance." He stared at Ingles, "What exactly am I being held for?"