The electronic doors slide shut behind you, cutting off the howling gale, as you enter the Mass Media Warehouse. You pause briefly beneath the heated jets of air to pull your hood down and shake the water from your hair.

Having only come in to escape the storm, you avoid making eye contact with the guy at the checkout and browse the shelves, trying to look non-commital about buying anything.

There is an ear-splitting crack of thunder nearby. A moment later, the lights in the store go out.

"Absolutely nothing to worry about," the man at the counter assures the customers in a quavering voice.

Another, much-louder explosion of thunder, directly overhead, cuts him off. In the darkness, electricity crackles over the walls, floors, and shelves; leaping between the thousands of DVDs, video-games, books, and box-sets, which begin to glow with an unholy light, floating ghost-like from their shelves to hang in the air befroe you.

Dumbstruck, as thunder peals against the walls of the shop, you reach out and touch one of them. Static crackles down your hand, and the smooth plastic gives way beneath your fingers as you're suddenly yanked forward down a dimensional vortex.

When you wake, you find yourself as -