In a distant corner of the multiverse lies a wholly unremarkable universe. Unlike its sister universes, eagerly churning through intergalactic wars, temporal anomalies, and strange variations on the guidelines of physics, universe 22-3(A) decided to take it easy for a while. Perhaps, 22-3(A) reflected, 15-5 would finally notice her if she got the latest trending physical constants. It was then that 23-3(A) was struck by a sensation not entirely unlike a stiff gust of wind.

The gust was in fact a series of extradimensional transpositions brought about by the multiverse balancing its books from a large energy debt due to an intercosmic war. It is in a fairly standard strand of 22-3(A)'s galaxies, on a planet innocently free of sentient life, that our story really starts to take off. The planet is called Mir, and it is playing space poker with its 3 mis-shappen moons.

"Oh dear," said Mir, "I do believe that bits of my surface have disappeared."
Mir's largest moon, Iss, who had a particularly good hand of four craters of a kind, said, "Ah. So you're folding, then." And the game continued as before.

Sentients, however, have a much harder time remaining nonplussed, and those that suddenly found themselves isolated on a strange new world were no exception. What follows is their stories, and, perhaps, a disruption to a perfectly good poker game.

UNSC

Their new home, things had been dark and confusing for a moment but when the backup generator was turned on and the base was powered up the troopers of the UNSC realized knew they weren't in Kansas anymore. The base needed a few patches but nothing that a couple of mechanics couldn't fix, but the worse thing about their new base was the fact that it needed a wall to keep ancient earthen predators out. Though one had to admit they were quite tenacious. A pack of those things attacked squad of marines who were on recon. Killing two and severely wounding four before they were repelled by automatic fire, there were apparently bigger beasts out there than these pack creatures and they were just as dangerous.

Besides the new dangers that now lurked outside their makeshift walls, the men had hud problems their motion trackers sometimes showing each other as foes, and the spartans reported their shields not working. "What else is going on?" Larris asked the flickering shape that sat on the podium. "It appears Captain my memory banks have been wiped, i cannot find any information on the predators outside the wall." The AI said, the captain turned around and folded his hands behind his back, things were desperate. "We will push further into this island so we can find out where these predators come from. Have the spartans lead the charge." The Ai nodded, "Right away sir." And with that the AI disappeared and the captain left the room.

---

Outside the base

Spartan team alpha was loading into a warthog, they had just gotten their orders to arm up and head out to investigate the fact that these old earth predators were still alive, they had a few ideas of what was going on but nothing concrete. Armed with 4 warthogs and two scorpion tanks the group headed out into the forest to find out what was going on just outside their walls.

<>

___Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital

The small-town buildings surrounding the hospital ended abruptly, holes now patchily covered by wooden planks and (in some places, still) tarps. Part of Prospect street went uphill where the Red Flash cut it off, and there was an abrupt small mound where the road met the newly-lowered terrain. A short distance away were the vague foundations where new houses would be built - dirt houses, mostly, except for a few using pre-Red Flash materials that people had lying around. Nobody had ventured far afield enough to find a forest yet. Then there were the attempts at farming (nobody even knew what season it was, really), and a track hacked west through the grassland toward the coast. People would have to start getting used to fish, once the hospital food ran out.

House woke up in his office. His leg hurt.

Fumbling around his coat pocket, he grabbed the bottle of vicodin. Two pills left. He considered cutting one in half before swallowing it. Wouldn't be worth it. One pill could take the edge off. Half a pill would just be annoying. The TV in front of his cushy leather chair was still paused on some scene from Prescription Passion, the only thing worth watching any more. Unless you liked static. Groping for the remote around his chair, he knocked his cane over. He was eyeing it suspiciously when someone knocked on the glass door to his office. Cuddy.

"Can't you see I'm sleeping?" he asked, waving Cuddy away. She opened the door anyway.
"At one in the afternoon?" she retorted.
"Generally waving someone away means 'go away', not 'barge right in'."
"You haven't been helping the building or exploration crews."
"Technically this is my residence now; I could have you arrested for trespassing."
"Technically I own the entire building. Why haven't you been helping the crews?"
"Because I'm a doctor, not a construction worker."
"You think anyone else is? Of the thousand people with us, only three were construction workers."
"But how many are your top diagnostician?"
"House, we need to build permanent homes for people. We can't keep them scattered through the hospital forever. Let alone food-"
"Gee, I'm sure glad there are another nine-hundred-ninety-nine people to do that for me."
"It's not like you've even had a case for a month!"
"Which will make it all the more exciting when that one idiot eats the wrong mushroom." House said. Cuddy sighed.
"Join a crew or else I give your meeting room to the Wilkinsons."
"Go away."

That was when Cuddy knew she'd won. So she left.

===---===

"Cuddy's on a power trip," House said, limping his way to the pickup truck. Some former patient was helping Dr. Wilson load the truck full of supplies - batteries, flashlights, food, water, rope, canvas, and other survival gear. Dr. Wilson sighed and turned around to greet the intruder.
"What are you doing here?"
"Queen Cuddy ordered me to join a work crew."
"You could have picked any of them."
"Actually, no. Apparently this one is 'off-limits to Dr. House.'"
"So you just had to satisfy your curiosity. Well, now you know. Go away."
"'John Booth' traded me a spot for a candy bar," House said, holding up said Snickers bar, "I think he has to assassinate President Lincoln." House got into the passenger seat, ignoring the bundles that still had to be loaded. Wilson sighed.
"You're just doing this because you can't stand the thought that nobody would enable you. You're desperate."
"No, I'm hungry," House said, opening the candy bar and eating it. "You're desperate, running away from your girlfriend's death." Wilson slammed the last bag of provisions in the truck bed. The former patient was awkwardly trying to get into the back seat, as far away from both Dr's House and Wilson as possible.
"I'm not having this conversation again. Get out of the truck and pick a different work crew." Wilson said.
"Can't. The roster says I'm here with you. Hate to disappoint Queen Cuddy - she might cut our heads off!" House turned on the radio to static, raising the volume level to obscene levels.
"House!" Wilson shouted. House mimed that he couldn't hear Dr. Wilson. Wilson sighed again.
"Fine," he said. "I guess one of us has to be mature about this, and it's not going to be you." Wilson got in the driver's seat. He turned off the radio.
"So, Lewis, where are we going?" House asked Wilson. Wilson ignored him, and started driving northeast. "You prefer Clarke?" The silence dragged out. "Can't ignore me forever."
"Northeast. To where the big fire was?" the former patient said. House glared at her. She shut up.

Witch Coven Bastogne
Current Location: Unknown

"Foxtrot 13, say again. What do you see?"

"Grassland and open spaces. And very bad weather. We got winter and summer clashing and it is playing hell on local weather conditions. Having trouble flying high in this turbulence."

"Copy that, return to base immediately. We'll let Peiper's Panzers take over from here until the weather clears." Lyndis Cannon let out a breath as she took the radio headset off and slumped in her chair. That was the fifth such recon flight the 1st MTF attempted beyond the forests taken from the Ardennes. Arriving from the peak of winter into this world more summer-like conditions was adding more trouble to the witches already mounting logistical problems as they tried to figure out where the hell they were after The Event.

"CP! CP! This is Lieutenant Vastano! I spotted a complex to the west!" Lyndis reeled back to the radioset, catching the attention of the other two ensigns in the radioroom as she turned over the dials to the Liberion setting.

"What is it Able 1-6?"

"Its.....some kind of rocket complex. Like one of those Karlsland V-rocket sites only bigger."

"Mark its position and bearing from base. We'll need you to guide us to it." Lyndis hastily grabbed a map and pencil and sketched out the path Lt. Vastano had taken. Even if it was a wild goose chase, it was something to refocus the task force. Spirits above knew they needed any direction they could get. She didn't have the same knack for that as Colonel Abrams.

[b]Bastogne Supply Dump[b]

"The ammo dump was on the other side of town right? Aw man." Abrams grunted as she stood on the invisible line where the town of Bastogne had been cleaved in two. For safety reasons the supply dump and the ammo dump were separate back when they had both halves of the town. Now it meant that while the 1st MTF had beans, bandages, strikers, but not bullets besides what was in the coven's stores. And those stocks were already half-empty from intense fighting with the Neuroi.

"Second load of supplies is shipping out now ma'am." Reported Sergeant Collier as she rolled up to Abram's side. "Hope you like alphabet field rations. We got enough for a couple months."

"Karls are going to love that. They actually enjoy D-rations. Or Peiper does at least if you can believe it." Abrams held up one of the aforementioned chocolate rations to emphasize the point. "We need more eyes on the situation. Air recon isn't getting us far considering the weather patterns, take a four-witch squad out west. Maybe some of our rear-echelon forces got transported along with us. If not, we need eyes on the ground to find out what is out there."

"Yes ma'am. I'll get 3rd Squad on the move in ten." Collier turned and left to organize her troops, leaving Abrams alone once again to ponder at the line between two worlds.

WIP

Bzzt Bzzt

"Iaah Eeeh," Mayor Dolt of Sporetopia yawned as he woke up from his nap. The tired sporeling picked up his s-communicator and pressed a button. A screen on the wall flashed on and appeared an overzealous scientist, the only one in the room wearing a lab coat, goggles, and a security badge. "Oh my," the Mayor said under his breath. "You may speak," Dolt replied after realizing what he was doing.

"Mayor Dolt, Sir!" a nasally voice responded.

"Yes?"

"W-well... Oh sorry, sir, MystutterjusthappenssometimesthenIstarttoram..." the flustered sporling sputtered.

"What is it!"

After wiping a couple tears from his face, the scientist continued,