Chapter 1: Quite a wake up call...

“That is just how things like this go,” he said with a smile that seemed somewhere between apologetic and not really caring. It wasn't quite a politician's smile, but it didn't reach the man’s grey-blue eyes. I watched as he folded his arms and leaned back into the chair, the strange sky of this place hovering over his shoulder just out of the window. “Does that make sense? If you need I can go over it all aga-”

“No, no, I just need a moment,” I responded, and it was the truth, after all, it wasn't every day that you got told your parents weren't actually from the reality from earth, or at least weren't from the earth that you had grown up on and what's more they were also fugitives due to the fact that they had illegally crossed over to a different, well, multiverse I guess? Honestly, I would have thought that all of this was an elaborate hoax, or some sort of candid camera show or something, if not for the fact that the men who had escorted me here. Well, more specifically how they had escorted me here, to wherever the hell here actually was that is. You see, I would imagine that it would be quite difficult to make an actual portal in the far wall of my living room.

Now, I know for a fact that that wall had been solid, I had hung several pictures there and even had a couch butted up against it. But it sure hadn't been solid when a group of men walked right through it like it had been the crossing in harry potter or some shit. I hadn't seen the first one coming through, but I had heard it as he moved the couch out of his way, and while I was processing the fact that there was what looked like a cop in my living room without my permission, albeit a cop with a uniform that I had never seen, another one had just stepped through the wall. It had rippled like it was a reflection of the wall on a pool of water.

That had been enough to short circuit my brain for long enough for them to frogmarch me through the portal thing to here, not that I actually knew where here was. It looked rather like the inside of a police department, just like you would see in a movie or something, perhaps there was some difference between it and the real deal, but seeing as that was really my only frame of reference I couldn't tell. After which they set me down in front of this Detective Peterson. “Sooooo-” I said, stretching the word out in order to give myself time to think properly and order everything in my head. “Let me repeat it back at you, make sure I have all of this down ok?” He nodded, and so I launched into it, mentally noting how insane it all sounded. “Essentially my mother and father were from a different reality and eloped together to the one that I have been living in.”

“That is correct, though the proper term would be plane, not reality or universe or what have you, just a plane of existence,” he said with a nod.

“And, that is a crime?” I asked, choosing to ignore the rather strange speel on semantics he had just gone over.

“It's not technically illegal, no, not like entering your United States without a visa or other legal means, for it to be illegal it would need to be a known law, and we tend to not advertise that there even are other planes of existence. Sometimes however people do find out and then even find a way to change planes, my department is tasked with finding these people and essentially deporting them back to their original universes.” He said it with a smile, but something about the way he said it told me he wasn't joking at all. “It is all about balance Mr. Gunderson-”

“Erik,” I interrupted, I still really couldn't see myself as Mr. Gunderson, that had always been my father, and it just didn't fit me the same way it fit him.

“Erik,” he amended with a slight nod. “As I was saying, crossing over into another plane is not something that should be allowed, it has ripple effects in so many things, as such we try to cut down on the effects.”

“Anyway, my father and mother crossed ove-”

“With you, you were according to dates and records conceived in this other plane making you a citizen of it even if you were born in the one you have been residing in.”

“If I was born in my world- I mean the one I have been living in, doesn't that make me a naturalized citizen or something?” I asked.

“No,” Peterson said, choosing to elaborate no further, there was a pause while I waited to see if he would give me more info or if he was done with that topic, it would appear that it was the latter of the two and so I went on.

“So they came through the portal or whatever, started a new life, and lived there for the past nineteen years, and you're only now finding out about it?” Something wasn't adding up, this was an almost twenty-year-old case if what he was telling me was true.

“These cases are not rare, seeing as there are so many planes of existence and there is only one bureau of investigation that looks into it, as such we are perpetually understaffed and running behind, we also tend to prioritize looking for planeswalkers that are dangerous either to their original population with their absence or to population of the new plane of existence they end up in with there presence. Your father and mother, and yes you, are low on that priority due to the fact that neither your father nor mother had ever shown any signs of malice or madness or general bad behavior even, in fact, it is highly likely that either your father or your mother discovered a rift, that is a thin section between two adjacent planes and stepped through at some point in their past, discovering what was to them a completely new plane of existence, and when things did not go to plan they hid in the other world.” He smiled at me and continued. “Before you ask, no I have no idea which one of them found it, nor what drove them to flee,”

“So people can just step through these rifts and pop, in another plane?”

“Yes and no,” he said steepling his fingers, “you see, while it is true you can step through a rift, most are unstable, meaning it might be there one minute and gone the next, it might place you in a different plane than it did last time, and it might even shut off on you mid-step, which I will not get into the gory details of, suffice it to say that being in two planes of existence can get… Messy...” he grimaced and I attempted to not focus on the rather disturbing image that now resided in my head. “Anyway, before you think, ‘oh I will just find a new rift and step through to get home’ I would like to point you to what I just explained, if you step through a rift, which the existence of is exceptionally rare, you could end up in a completely different plane, get grievously wounded or worse, and now that you know about our policy if you step through we will prosecute you to the best of our abilities,” He leaned in close to my face. “And trust me, we are very, very able indeed.”

“What about all of my stuff?” I asked, looking at him. I knew I was grasping at straws but it was also a legitimate question, I didn't have a ton of things, but over the course of 19 years a man can accumulate an item or three.

“Ah yes,” he said, reaching down and pulling out a packet of papers that were stapled together. “This is a 558-1b4 form, this is the document containing a list of all items owned and their approximate value.” He slid it over to me and I looked at it, on the page in a rather neat column was everything I owned, everything from my 1997 ford Taurus on down to each and every set of socks and boxers. The actual amount of money I had spent was staggering, to be honest. “We converted all assets to a monetary amount and will be reimbursing you for your losses, minus the conversion fee and the transfer fee of course.” He said and I looked down at the paper with me.

“Wait a second,” I said putting my finger on the first item, my car. “My car is worth far more than two hundred and fifty dollars,” I protested.

“Not based on current blue book values it isn't.”

“And what the hell is this? This total is like what under a half of the actual amount?”

“As I said, there is a transfer and conversion fee,” he said with his fake smile back in place.

“A fee that cost over half of the total?” I asked incredulously.”That's ridiculous!”

“Mr.Gunderson,” I was pretty sure he was using my last name just to annoy me, “you are under no obligation to take the offered compensation if you would prefer we can hold onto the funds an-”

“No, no,” I said quickly, feeling like a fool for jumping at his words like this. After all, it was a tactic to make me give in quickly and easily and hell it had worked like a charm.

“If you could sign at the bottom then,” he said, flipping the pages over to the last one where there was a spot for a signature. I did so, wondering what other hidden fees they had put in place to separate me from my money. “Good, now, our interview is done and as such officer Malcolm will come and escort you to the rift gate and back into the proper plane, have a good life,” he said, pressing a button on his desk as he was closing up the file and smiling at me.

“Wait- what? I still have so many questions, like language, will I be able to communicate with the people or-”

“I am sure you are full of questions Mr.Gunderson, the basics of which are covered in here,” he slid a pamphlet across the countertop to me and I picked it up as the large man who had escorted me into the room came back to shuffle me out. As I was led down the hallways I looked at the cover of the pamphlet. It was labeled ”So you are being deported to a different plane” and had the smiling face of a woman whose happy expression looked about as fake as I could ever recall seeing. Before I could open it up it was snatched out of my hand by the officer that Detective Peterson had called Malcolm.

“This is useless, less than useless, waste of good paper,” he said as he wadded it up and tossed it in a trashcan as he marched me past it. “Here is the basics kid; Yes you will be able to understand and communicate, and even read the words of the locals, and no, I would not recommend telling them about your trip to the other dimension and whatnot, think about it, how many supposed alien abductees do everyday people believe to be trustworthy, and that's in a relatively modern society, where you are going-” he made a hissing noise between his teeth and shook his head. “Would not recommend, would not recommend.” I was about to ask what exactly he meant by this when he stepped forward and opened a door, ushering me inside. There on a bench lay a set of clothing and a pair of odd-looking boots. “Get dressed,” he said as he closed the door behind us.

“Umm, some privacy please?” I asked looking at him.

“No can do kid,” he said crossing his massive arms over his barrel of a chest. “Gotta make sure you're not smuggling anything across, so I am in here with you.” I felt a little heat in my cheeks but didn't answer as I walked over to the pile of clothing on the bench and began to strip down. “Boxers too kid,” he said, and I gritted my teeth but did as told. The actual clothing was like nothing I had ever worn, but it looked similar to clothing I had seen before and from it, I was able to figure out exactly what he had meant when he had been saying he hadn't recommended it on the plane that I was going.

It all looked like something someone would wear to a ren faire. It consisted of a cotton long sleeve shirt that I promptly pushed up to my forearms and that tightened there via a string. The v neckline of the shirt was decorated with a brown and blue series of lines that made a sort of knot-like pattern. The pants were the same color and material, just natural off-white cotton, though these were baggier than I was used to around the legs and tightened around the waist and calves with laced strings as well. Warm stockings, tall leather boots that went halfway up my calves, and a green gugel hood rounded it all out along with a thick leather worked belt. I reached down and grabbed the knife off of my old belt and was about to put it on the new one when Malcolm spoke up.

“I am afraid I am going to have to ask you to leave that behind, you are not to take any items with you other than what is provided.”

“My dad just passed away,” I said slowly, still lacing the leather straps into place on the belt to hold the worked leather sheath. “I have just learned that I have to be relocated, never to go home, never to even see his or mom’s graves again, and this is the only thing of his that I still have to remember him by as you assholes have taken everything else I own away from me.” I finished and looking back up at him I stared him straight in the eyes and let the challenge of my gaze tell him where I stood. “We made it when I was eight, from the first deer I had ever hunted, we made it together, and there is no way in hell you are taking it,” I growled.

Despite the size difference, it was Malcolm that looked away first. “Fine,” he said, not meeting my eyes, “I didn't see it,” He said looking back at me, “here,” I don't know exactly where he produced it from but a leather backpack appeared in his hands and he tossed it to me. I caught it, not really expecting it to be as heavy as it actually was seeing as he had tossed it like it had weighed nothing. “That has food, a map, cooking supplies, and the money.” he walked over to the wall and placed his hand on a small pad. Nothing happened for a second but then I saw the wall shimmer and shift ever so slightly. He made a gesture and I walked up to the wall, lightly laying my hand on what was supposed to be the surface of something solid. “Good luck,” he said and as I looked over to thank him he shoved me through the rift and into bright sunlight.