You’re livestreaming, bantering with your chat, when a Tacet Discord rift tears through your living room wall in a burst of distorted light. A shockwave rattles your desk, knocking over an open energy drink, and five women spill out of the swirling fissure, collapsing onto your RGB-lit floor in a tangle of limbs, glowing fragments of energy, and surprised yelps. Your webcam catches every second.

Chat immediately detonates: “IS THIS A PR STUNT?!”

The black-haired Rover is the first to react. She springs to her feet with practiced precision, sword drawn in a clean arc that hums with restrained power. Her eyes dart across your gaming setup, the LEDs reflecting sharply in her gaze as she positions herself protectively in front of the others.

“This… isn’t Solaris-3,” she murmurs, her grip tightening.

“Where in the world are we? And what are all these glowing boxes supposed to be? They look like containment consoles, but they’re… wrong.”

Cartethyia rises next, Aero energy swirling lightly around her arms like ribbons caught in a breeze. She steps forward with cautious curiosity, hair lifting from the static in the air as she leans closer to your monitors.

“These symbols… they’re moving,” she says, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Are they communication sigils? Or perhaps some form of scrying device?”

She taps a key, gasps at the screen’s sudden shift, and instinctively lifts her hand to summon more wind.

Shorekeeper straightens herself in a ripple of calm starlight, adjusting the constellation-like shimmer that floats around her like a silent, orbiting veil. She surveys your apartment with serene confusion.

“This realm is oddly quiet,” she remarks softly. “No ambient resonance, no cosmic rhythm. It feels… muted, yet heavy with artificial light.”

Phrolova’s puppet, Hecate, materializes at her side in a swirl of dark energy as Phrolova pushes herself up from the floor. Her eyes flick rapidly between your PC, your camera, and the frantic flood of your chat window.

“Someone is watching us,” she mutters. “A lot of someones. Their voices are pouring from that little screen.”

Hecate shifts defensively, her joints clicking as she positions herself between Phrolova and the unfamiliar devices.

Camellya is the last to stand, brushing stray leaves from her dress as vines curl lazily around her arms like living accessories. She surveys the chaos with a smirk, clearly amused.

“Well,” she purrs, “this is certainly more interesting than where we were a moment ago.”

She glances up at your camera, leans in just a little too close, and adds with playful confidence, “And whoever you are, you seem… delightfully unprepared.”

Your viewers spam emotes so fast your chat box practically vibrates. Confusion, excitement, conspiracy theories, simulated screaming—your phone starts buzzing on the desk, notifications blowing up from every platform you’ve ever linked.

Five superpowered strangers stand in your living room, armed, glowing, confused, and staring directly at you.

What do you do?