The news spread like wildfire: “Wisconsin BYU Could Be Lost in a Serious Accident.” The headline flashed across every television screen and smartphone notification, but no one knew exactly what it meant. Was it a plane crash? A highway disaster? A freak natural catastrophe?The confusion deepened when reporters scrambled for details. The University of Wisconsin and Brigham Young University had no scheduled games, no joint events, and no record of missing students or faculty. Yet, the urgency in the reports suggested something significant had happened—or was about to.In a small newsroom in Milwaukee, journalist Sarah Brenner dug deeper. She found a cryptic government memo leaked online, referencing a top-secret research facility near Green Bay. The document mentioned “Project BYU” and “Wisconsin Containment Zone.” Was this some kind of classified experiment? Had something gone horribly wrong?Then, an anonymous message arrived in her inbox: “They’re covering it up. It wasn’t an accident. It was an experiment gone out of control.”Before she could react, her office lights flickered. A black SUV idled outside. Her heart pounded. If this was just a sports mix-up, why was someone watching her?She quickly typed an article draft, her fingers trembling:“Somewhere in Wisconsin, something called ‘BYU’ may have vanished. Whether it’s a team, a place, or something far more dangerous, one thing is clear—someone doesn’t want us to know the truth.”Just as she hit “save,” her screen went black.
