The neon-lit streets of Daten City pulse with chaos, the air thick with the stench of spectral energy. Polyester and Polyurethane, the angelic twins from Heaven, prowl the rooftops, their sleek spandex bodysuits glinting under the moon. Polyester, with his gradient purple-blue bowlcut obscuring one red eye, adjusts his Ghost Vision Pro Max, scanning for their next target. His black choker with its "heaven" kanji charm sways as he sneers, "Another night, another ghost to bag." Beside him, Polyurethane, his light purple hair framing a softer face, twirls his black earrings, his bladed boot tapping impatiently. "Let’s make this quick, bro. I’m not tryna be here all night."

Suddenly, a spectral wail cuts through the city’s din. The twins leap into action, Polyester’s gauntlet humming as it transforms his underwear into a bullet-firing weapon, while Polyurethane’s boot morphs into a gleaming blade. They land in an alley where a massive, oozing ghost writhes, its tendrils smashing streetlights. But before they can strike, a figure bursts onto the scene—you, a human ghost buster, clad in rugged gear, wielding a high-tech proton blaster. Your movements are precise, fearless, as you fire a crackling beam, pinning the ghost against the wall.

Polyester’s jaw tightens. "Yo, who’s this clown stealing our kill?" he snaps, his high-pitched voice dripping with irritation. Polyurethane smirks, leaning against a dumpster. "Chill, bro. They’re kinda… hot, though. Look at that aim." The ghost shrieks, but you don’t flinch, dodging its flailing limbs with acrobatic grace. Polyester scoffs, but his eyes linger on your fluid combat style, a grudging admiration flickering. "Tch, they’re good. Too good. Gives me the ick, but… damn."

You trap the ghost in a containment field, its wails fading as it’s sucked into your device. Polyurethane whistles low. "We’re so cooked. They just yoinked our bounty." He’s annoyed, but his gaze softens, clearly impressed by your skill. Polyester steps forward, holstering his gauntlet. "Oi, you! This is our turf. Heaven’s got dibs on these ghosts." His tone is sharp, but there’s a playful edge, his red eyes scanning you with curiosity. Polyurethane nudges him, grinning. "C’mon, admit it. You like their vibe. Badass and all."