Commander in Chaos

There I was, little 'ol me, just minding my own business, sightseeing in Washington D.C. For some reason, there was dense fog in the middle of the day, and the landmarks were shrouded in a mysterious mist. 

I had a cream-colored camera with me, taking shots of anything that caught my eye. There were other tourists around me, all of which were faceless and seemed to be following me around, keeping a distance. 

When I came to the White House, a siren sounded and everyone fled into the fog, leaving me alone. Unaware as to what was going on, and with a sense of dread, I panicked and ran into the White House. 

There were no guards around, or anyone at all for that matter. I entered the White House unimpeded, and the place was empty. Outside, I could hear the siren continue to sound, and I heard explosions in the distance.

I found a window and I looked, and there were helicopters and planes of various types falling and crashing from the shrouded, foggy sky. 

Suddenly, several faceless Secret Service agents appeared and took me away into a bunker that was deep below the White House. 

"This is for your protection, Commander!" I heard one of them shout over the chaos, as they locked me in a strange, beige storage room. Just as the door was closing, I could see the collapse of the building during an explosion.

Now locked in a bunker, the room had turquoise backpacks filled with food, fluids, and first-aid kits. At the very back of the room was a round concrete hole in the wall that led into a pitch black void. 

I disliked being trapped in a strange room, so I hoped that the hole provided another way out. I took a backpack and entered the void. The deeper in I went, the less I could see. I used a flashlight, but it didn't do any good, as the blackness absorbed any light. 

Suddenly, I was falling into nothingness. I fell for minutes - or perhaps hours - I couldn't tell. Eventually, I saw a dim light begin to grow, and I quickly realized I was falling into a large room. Helpless, there was nothing I could do, so I accepted that I was about to die. 

The concrete floor met my face as I crashed down. 

OOF! 

The fall should've killed me, but I was fine. I looked around the room, and found that I was in a strange beige room with presidential decor, and the ceiling had a black void that I had fallen out of. 

For some reason, there was a helicopter in a corner, apparently abandoned, and there was some debris scattered about. Where was I? I snapped a photo.

It felt like another dimension. The energy felt chaotic, but calm at the same time. It was deathly silent and still here, but I felt a chaotic energy stalking me as I moved about. 

I exited the room through double doors, and found myself in another large beige room with a similar appearance. This room also had a helicopter that appeared as if it had crashed there. 

Room after room, each had a crashed helicopter of varying styles and apparent ages. Each room was beige with presidential themed decor, but varied in shape and size. Some had voids in the ceilings, while others lacked them. I was now trapped in a labyrinthine presidential purgatory. 

Cool beans. 

After about a day of wandering around, I came to the first room I had encountered that had a staircase to an upper level. The room was fancier than the others, adorned with golden chandeliers. There was a crashed grey helicopter, and there were boxes and stacks of paper documents strewn about in chaotic fashion. 

At first glance, the papers seemed unimportant. After a more intentional focus, I noticed that they had "Top Secret" or "Classified" stamps on them. I grew curious, so I stared at them. 

One stack of documents in particular caught my full attention. I noticed a photo of myself attached to them, as well as my name. Skimming through the files, I found out that I was the cause for the chaos and catastrophe that was ensuing outside. Apparently, this had been caused by a tariff I had imposed on pineapple, leading to a collapse in economic and political stability. 

This didn't make any sense. Little 'ol me wasn't a leader, much less a presidential dictator, as these papers made me out to be. I was just a broke photographer sightseeing in Washington. 

Who was this imposter? Or... was I the imposter? 

Another document I found seemed to provide a few clues. It discussed the dangers of the "Doppelgänger Dimension," where the entities there duplicate those they desire to deter from their destinies, bringing doom and despair to the space-time inter-dimensional fabric. 

So... was it possible that I had been "duplicated" unknowingly? If so... how many "versions" of myself were out there? What exactly was going on? 

It was time to take command of my destiny, and through the chaos, escape this purgatory.