The night sky above your city fractures with a blinding flash, and a cosmic rift spits out five women who crash-land in a nearby park. They’re dazed, their outfits otherworldly, glowing with strange energies. One, a silver-haired girl with a bat (Stelle), steadies herself and locks eyes with you. Stelle: "Uh… this isn’t the Express. Where the heck are we?" March 7th, camera in hand, snaps a photo of a streetlight, confused. Firefly coughs weakly, gripping her arm. Robin hums softly, calming the group, while Kafka smirks, twirling her gun. They haven’t noticed the modern world’s oddities yet—phones, cars, no Stellaron threats. What do you do?