Your name is Maite Hirsch and you're exhausted.

This probably has something to do with the fact that you've been hiking in France for five days now, and have already walked about seven kilometres without pause.

You're definitely panting right now, so you take a moment to fish your waterbottle from a side compartment of your (roughly 12kg) backpack and take two deep sips before replacing it.

"Just keep... moving..." you remind yourself and start setting one foot in front of the other again. Left foot. Right foot. And repeat.

A look around reveals that no, your surroundings are still mostly fields with a few farmhouses and trees sprinkled between. ...why did you think this was a good idea, again?

Oh, right. It was a whim to get out of a holiday with your family, and you do actually like hiking.

A quick glance behind you reveals that you managed to shake a smaller group of hikers from earlier and you're now completely alone on your chosen path. "Chemin de Saint Jacques... This was... a horrible idea."

That's about when you suddenly fall through the floor and land on your butt on what feels like wooden tiles. Somewhat confused by the sudden displacement, you stand up and right your backpack, looking around.

You know this house.

You also know this house doesn't actually exist. Yet you are currently looking a rather baffled Stephen Strange in the eyes.

Your brain does the logical thing with your exhaustion and information overload and shuts off.

Your name is Maite Hirsch and you just fainted in front of your favorite superhero after falling through an interdimensional wormhole.