All Miles could really remember was wind. A strong wind in his office. 'Strange' he had told himself. He aso remembered a swirly portal-like matter before him. 'All a strange Dream' is what he thought in the darkness. His bed felt cold and hard, and a cold wind came over him. He opened his eyes and let out a quiet shout. He was in a small room, with lots of others around him. His head was resting against some cobblestones, and his suit was dirty, covered in mud. He slowly got up and crept towards the door. He rattled it slowly at first, but then harder, loudly, it's hinges groaned. He stopped and sat down. "What the hell?" He muttered.