Prologue Edit


Several thousand feet above the ground, a peculiar object flew through the air at high speed. A football that wasn't exactly a normal football spun as it flew through thick, freezing clouds of snow and hail, balls of ice bouncing off on impact (if they even managed to hit it, of course).

It had been on its course for a few days now, flying over and around the planet collecting any information even mildly pertinent to its home base - Warehouse 13. A series of small robberies in London that only occurred on Wednesday afternoons. An intersection in Queensland that became chaotic as any driver that approached it decided to do the opposite of the traffic signal. A pet store with humans in cages and pets wearing perfectly fitting uniforms. Gas prices decreasing. All could be the result of the sudden appearance of an artifact causing trouble.

The football was on its way home now, returning to the Warehouse in South Dakota to be thrown back up again to continue its dutiful service - if one of the more sports-inclined agents didn't decide to play catch with it instead, of course.

The snowfall over Missouri had been growing more intense over the last week, and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. But that didn't stop the football - it was hardly delayed. A little snow wouldn't stop it, it would be home in time for dinner at this rate.

Several yards ahead and to the left of the football, a bolt of lightning appeared, accompanied by a deafening boom of thunder. Then another bolt to its right, a little closer. The football just kept flying ahead as usual. All it had to do was keep flying until it came into less dense clouds and it would be smooth sailing from there.

A third bolt of lightning came down from above, striking the football dead center. Blackened, it spun and tumbled end over end through the air, momentum carrying it forward as it fell, but no longer able to fly.

Down, down it fell, rapidly picking up speed as the distance between it and the approaching earth shortened. In minutes, it collided with the solid asphalt of a road and bounced several yards before it began to slow down and roll. Luckily, it wasn't destroyed on impact, but it certainly wouldn't be flying anytime soon.

As it rolled along the road, it passed a podium of variously toned stones topped by a layer of cement. From the cement sprouted two wooden posts, upon which rested a wooden sign with slightly aging painted words.

Welcome to Hermosa Hollow.