[A/N] Hi, everyone. Since this is my first story, please try and forgive some of the horribleness. Leave reviews, but if you are only going to troll it, go to Youtube.

Chapter 1

I used to be just an average guy from Philadelphia. I was in my early thirties, I was unmarried, and my family lived in Cleveland. I was in the Army for about five years before I was honorably discharged on the account of saving fifteen guys from a burning building. I had moved into Philly only sixth months before I was recruited to the organization.

By now, you're probably wondering who I am. Well, I used to be Sam O'Riley, but Sam O'Riley no longer technically exists. My codename is S. I work for the International Protection of Fiction Association, which doesn't exist either. But enough about that, let's talk about how I got into this situation.

One day, a Saturday to be exact, I was at my apartment, making my breakfast, when I heard a knock at the door. Going to the door, I asked who they were without opening it.

"International Protection of Fiction Agency", said the guy at the door.

"Never heard of you guys."

"Yeah, well, there is a very reason for that", said a second voice.

"Ok, Frank, Jeff, is this you? Come one, guys, I don't need a repeat of Halloween. I had bruises for a month."

"Trust us, Mr. O'Riley, this isn't your friends, nor is it a prank. We will explain on the way."

"To where?"

"Your new life."

And they were right. They just didn't say it would be a BETTER life.

When I stepped out of my apartment to talk, the two guys immediately grasped me. Now, I'm not the biggest guy in the world, but I can survive in a fight. These two guys grabbed me, held me tight enough as for me to not even struggle, and brought me to the Humvee they had waiting.

The guys themselves were dressed in these strange suits. I didn't know what they were at the time. The seemed like body armor, but not any body armor that I had ever seen.

When they tossed me in – and I mean tossed – I was greeted by two complete strangers. One of them looked a lot like Sean Connery from his days as Bond, the other looked like the world's greatest grandfather. I got a feeling that both could kick my ass from where they were.

The Connery lookalike spoke first, but he had a Southern accent as opposed to a Scottish one: "Greetings, Mr. O'Riley. My name is F. This here", gesturing to the older gentleman, "is R. We are part of the IPFA. We are here to recruit you."

"You do know this is kidnapping, right? I could sue you and your Southern ass from here to St. Louis."

At that point, the older guy spoke. He seemed to have been Russian, but it was hard to tell. "Mr. O'Riley. May I call you Sam?"
"Sure."

"Sam, kidnapping is where you take someone who exists. You do not exist anymore."

At that point, the world stopped for me. I felt numb, and cold to everyone, including myself. I don't know how long I was like that, and I don't want to know. But that time period was when I felt the worst, and I had trauma during my service.

After I snapped out of that, I immediately asked them what they were talking about.

The Southern guy, F, said, "We erased all your records. You ever seen MIB?"

"Yeah?"
"It's kinda like that, but we are more precise than that. We wiped everyone who knew you, erased every single record of you, and got rid of every existing sample of your DNA, all during this drive. Ergo, you do not exist."

"But how? How could you do that? It just isn't possible. You can't erase someone from history."

R spoke then. "We have, Sam. Do you want to know what the IPFA does?"

"Yes."

"We track down the scum of fanfiction and eliminate it."

"Like you did with me?"

"Oh, nothing at all like that, Sam. What we do is far more complicated, and much harder. Have you ever read a story, watched a movie, or the like, and had an idea for it?"
"Who hasen't?"

"That idea exists."

"Ok, now you're just pranking me. What you are trying to say is stories exist? How?"

"You see, Sam, reality exists as a series of planes, or alternate dimensions. Whenever a story is created, a new plane for that story is created as well. All planes exist in sync with ours, and, with the right equipment, someone from our plane can pass into a different plane."

F started speaking. "And it's our job to make sure that each plane is functioning normally. Since the rise of fanfiction, that is not the case with many planes. Hell, the only one not affected is our own."
"And how is that?"

"No one knows, actually. We have top researchers looking into it, but have had little success."

It was then we got to our destination. I didn't know where we were, since all the windows were blacked out. However, I still had one more question for Agent Weird and Weirder.

"Why me? Out of all the people in the world to choose, why me?"

"Because, Sam. You have served in the Army, you have been repeatedly shown to handle well in stressful situations, and you can handle a preposterous situation a lot better than most people."

"That describes a lot of people."

"Well, do we look like ordinary people?"
"Yes."

"Well, we aren't. Every possible recruit was specifically chosen, and of the over one hundred people chosen, only one is selected to join our organization."

"Sounds like a bad rip-off of the Men in Black."

"Correction", interrupted R. "The Men in Black are a bad rip-off of us."

"They've been around since the 60's!"
"Exactly. Now, do you want out, or do you want to come back, fight for what's right, and fight for your life?"

I thought about it. Ever since I had gotten out of the Army, I wanted to get back in. However, the smart, reasonable part of my brain said no to that, and I should just have a normal life.
Sometimes I hated that part of my brain.

"What happens if I don't take this offer?"
F spoke. "You can go back to your life. We will mind-wipe you of your experience, set you back up with your previous life, and nobody will be the wiser."

"And if I take your offer?"

"You will go through a series of tests, to see if you're ready for this. If you pass, then you can be an Agent. If you fail, you will wake up in your bed with no memory of the experience."

I ignored my (always right) common sense, put on my ten-ton iron balls, and agreed to the deal.