In the basement of the Pentagon, down a poorly lit hallway was a locked door. It wasn't a particularly nice door; battered and chipped wood with an overly long name stencilled on it.
Department Of Demensional Abnormalities / Magic / Nanotechnology / Interstellar Travelers
Under this, someone had written DAMNIT in sharpie.
Behind this door was another door - an eighteen inch thick impregnable vault door.
Inside two agents were muddling through another shift. Both were young, the physical demands of their fieldwork ruled out even the middle aged. The first was a fit, well tanned man in his early 20s, long blonde hair falling to his shoulders. Clean shaven face, blue eyes, and an easy smile completed the surfer look.
The other agent was an asian woman, perhaps 30. She was petite, right at five foot, and built like a gymnast. In fact she had been a very successful one in her teens. She had very short black hair, left spiky and wild. This, combined with her delicate features, made it easy for her to pass as much younger.
The two were at the coffee maker, lightheartedly bickering about the season finale of a favorite TV series.
The woman, Amy, was speaking. 'It makes no sense, that plot twist wastes three seasons of character development. If they retcon it to a dream sequence I'll be happy.'
The man, Davis, shook his head - blonde hair swinging. 'No, anything but a cliche dream copout. I sw-'. He was cut off by a loud alarm from the other room.
They ran to the control room and slid into their seats.
'Picking up major dimensional fatigue. Cascading backwards in time as well.' Amy spoke aloud as she checked the alert.
Davis was clicking away at his console as well. 'Checking to see if it's time travel. Last thing we want is another territorial pissing match with the Department Of Diachronic Operations.'
Amy shuddered. 'Why does D.O.D.O. have to be such assholes?'
She dug further. 'Looks like it is centered on the small town of Pleasant Hills.'
Davis nodded. 'Not time travel, just generalized fatigue. Whatever it is, it's our problem.'
'I know Pleasant Hills, it's that town with all the funky living dolls. My old roommate was from near there and called it Plastic Hills, because all the dolls are female shaped with huge tits.'
He trailed off. Amy looked at him with a suspicious look. 'So we have changes to the fabric of reality in a small down that we both remember as having tons of strange living fox dolls.'
Davis noded. 'Shit. Yeah, that's a contender, better check the Archives.'
Down another hall past the seldom used offices of the other field teams was a room filled with strange machinery. They stood on a raised platform and pressed a big red button.
Greenish purple light flashed, followed by the taste of lemons, and an echo of a child's laughter. Transitioning to the pocket dimension where the Archives were stored was never a fun or rational experience.
The Archives were a massive warehouse containing copies of all known information. Unfortunately it was all on paper as electronics did not function here. Endless shelves of binders stretched off as far as the eye could see.
'Lets start with the Abnormality Index data. If the VixDolls are not 'new', that town should rank at least a 7 on the Strange Scale.'
It took only 45 minutes to find the data and confirm that Pleasant Hills was supposed to be completely normal.
Amy sighed. 'Gear up, have Field Team 42 meet us there, and get Tech to dispatch a mobile lab. I'll go tell Director Marcellus and meet you at the teleporter.'
Davis shuddered, DAMNIT's director was the most unpleasant person he had ever encountered - and he met plenty of bizarre people and creatures in this line of work.