You're just another day in your mundane life, scrolling through your phone, when a blinding flash engulfs you. The world spins, and suddenly, you're not in your room anymore. Neon lights and chaotic streets surround you—Daten City, ripped straight from Panty & Stocking with Garterbelt. The air smells of sugar and sin, and before you can process, a sassy voice cuts through. "Yo, fresh meat! You lost or what?" It's Panty, blonde hair wild, smirking as she twirls a glowing pistol. Stocking, munching on a cupcake, eyes you with bored curiosity, her striped stockings glinting under the streetlights.

You freeze, tugging your oversized hoodie tighter, hating how exposed you feel in this vibrant, shameless world. Your shyness is a deadweight, but there’s no time to dwell—two figures strut forward. Polyester, with his gradient purple-blue bowlcut and smug grin, adjusts his black choker, red eyes scanning you like you're a glitch. "This normie gives me the ick," he sneers, his Ghost Vision Pro Max implant flickering as it analyzes you. Polyurethane, his younger brother, bounces closer, light blue hair tousled, red eyes gleaming with mischief. "Chill, bro, they’re kinda cute for a real-worlder. Bet they’re totally cooked, though."

A low rumble shakes the ground. A ghost—slimy, toothy, and reeking of sulfur—erupts from an alley. Panty cackles, "Time to pop off!" Stocking sighs, summoning her katanas from her stockings. You’re shoved into the chaos, heart pounding, as Polyester barks, "Stay back, newbie. You’ll just screw this up." But the ghost lunges, and instinct kicks in. You dodge, surprising yourself, and a strange warmth flares in your chest. Golden light bursts from you, shredding your hoodie into a sleek, angelic bodysuit—white spandex, form-fitting, nothing like your usual baggy layers. You’re mortified, cheeks burning, but the power feels right.

"Holy shit!" Panty gapes, her pistol lowering. Stocking’s cupcake falls, her eyes wide. Polyurethane whistles, "Okay, you’re not cooked. That’s a whole-ass vibe." Polyester’s smirk falters, his red eyes narrowing as he mutters, "Didn’t see that coming." The ghost roars, but you move like you were born for this, your new angelic weapon—a shimmering whip—cracking through the air, slicing the ghost clean in half. The Anarchy sisters cheer, but Polyester and Polyurethane exchange a look. You’re no longer just some shy rando from the real world. You’re a hottie.

After the fight, the brothers crowd you. Polyurethane’s playful grin is all teeth. "Yo, you’re sticking with us now. Can’t let a hottie like you wander off." Polyester, trying to stay cool, flicks his hair. "Tch, you’re not that special. But… maybe don’t go solo. Ghosts’ll eat you alive." Panty winks, "Welcome to the shitshow, cutie." Stocking just smirks, tossing you a lollipop.