Prologue – Investigation

Fox Mulder, agent at the FBI. Spooky Mulder as he was often called by others in jest of his belief in the paranormal. A year ago, he had re-opened the X-Files, a set of files that had never been solved or were just left as unexplained. He was currently investigating the file of X-File S-10-1993, or the case of Augusta Miller. One night in 1967, the farmhouse where she lived alone went from being a perfectly normal building to a pile of rubble. There had been no explosion, no signs of fire. It simply went from being fine, to being destroyed. The body of Augusta Miller was never found. Because of the complete lack of evidence, as well as a lack of body, the case had been consigned to the X-Files within a few weeks of it arriving. And so, Mulder had decided to travel to Wisconsin to try and see if there was anything the original investigation could have left. If there was anything left twenty-four years after the incident.

Pulling up to the location on the file on a rainy day in the middle of March, Mulder looked out of the rain-marked window. There was nothing there, at least, nothing new had been built. The remaining skeleton of the building however, remained almost as intact as the day that the house was destroyed. Getting out of the car, he headed down to the skeletal wreck. Arriving at it in just a few minutes, he moved beyond the former doorway and into the remains of the building, minus the roof of course. Stepping on rotted wood, making his way through, his eyes moving from side to side as he scanned the area. There truly was nothing so far. As he made his way to the old kitchen area, his foot stepped on a particularly wet bit of wood. Slipping over, he fell backwards, breaking through the wood and hitting the old floor. Except something wasn't quite right. The sound that the floor made was that of a metal ringing instead of more wood. Getting up onto his knees, Mulder turned around and cleared away the wood. Underneath, he found a sheet of metal with a handle attached to it. Opening the hatch, he saw a ladder down to the cellar. But without a working torch, he knew that he would have to go back to the nearby town and get one. Closing the hatch and heading back towards the car, one burning question was on his mind. How did the first investigation miss this?

After thirty minutes of driving he arrived at the town, and decided that the first stop before picking up a torch was to pop into the local sheriff's office to ask about the first case. However, when he arrived he found a notice on the door of the office. Out for lunch. Back in thirty." Irritated by this, he decided that he might as well get on with his official investigation rather than wait. He headed over the road to the store, and just bought the cheapest torch he could find. Not bothering to engage much in the small talk that the person behind the counter seemed to want to, he paid for the torch, and rushed back to his car. He was determined to get to the bottom of this. The previous case could wait until later.

He was soon back at the former farmhouse. The rain was heavier than ever, and so he made a quick jog over to the location of the hatch. He leaned down and pulled open the hatch. The rain poured in and splashed on the concrete floor below. Holding his torch between his teeth, and making sure that he had his gun, Mulder climbed down the ladder. Total darkness was the only thing that greeted him upon making contact with the freshly wet concrete surface. Turning on the flashlight, Mulder looked around and found, nothing. At least, nothing out of the ordinary from what you may expect to find. A few odds and ends, leftover decorations. Nothing that could explain anything. Except for a clean slab of wall on the far side of the cellar. The rest of it was covered in dust, but not one section directly opposite Mulder. That much was clear of all dust. Moving towards it, he felt a brief breeze coming through the wall. Leaning onto the wall, and giving it a push, he was almost unprepared for it to give way, and move into a passage. He moved through into it, the fake wall slamming shut behind him of its own accord. Turning around, Mulder found at least something that the original investigation had missed. Behind where the door had opened, lay a skeleton. With a minor difference to what made a skeleton. Its head was missing.

After a quick examination of the skeleton, though Mulder was no expert, he was sure that this was the skeleton of Augusta Miller. Her skeleton had burn marks on the neck bone where the head was attached, and so he made the assumption that fire may have been part of the way she died. But with no way to reopen the fake wall, he moved on down the passage. He had drawn his gun as he moved down, going slowly and methodically, until at last he came to a large chamber which his torch did not light up enough for him to see. Only a faint silhouette of a strangely shaped object, with two triangular-like edges seemingly surrounding a glass orb. Before he could get closer, he was blasted back by something, and hit against a rock. The torch fell and the glass shattered on the ground, but remained working, whilst his gun flew just of his reach. He saw a brown robe before him and heard a voice. "You should not have come here. It is not safe for you. It is not time." And at that, Mulder faded in unconsciousness.

Hours later, Mulder came around from his unconscious state. He was lying down on a very comfortable bed, before realising that he was back at home, many miles from where he had previously been. Getting up, he was surprised that it was indeed his home. He could tell after walking to the window and peering out at the street. It made him wonder if it was all a dream, and that he hadn't actually gone anywhere. Until he looked down at his desk, and saw a broken torch, along with a note. He picked the note up. It was short, only five words long, in a handwriting that he did not know. The truth is out there.