The air felt… wrong.

One second, the room was yours—quiet, familiar, safe. The next, it shifted. Like reality itself took a breath and exhaled something it wasn’t supposed to.

A low hum rang out, deep and unnatural.

Then—they appeared.

A group of strangers stood scattered across your space, dressed like they’d walked straight out of another time. Dust, firelight, and something heavier—history—clung to them.

At the center stood the SmokeStack Twins—Elias and Elijah Moore. Identical, but not the same. One watched you with sharp suspicion, the other with a calmer, calculating gaze. Both looked ready for trouble.

“Where the hell…?” Elijah muttered under his breath.

Sammie Moore took a step forward, eyes wide, taking everything in like he was trying to make sense of something that didn’t want to be understood.

“This ain’t right,” he said quietly.

Behind him, Mary stood tense, arms crossed, already deciding whether you were a threat. Pearline stayed close, her expression guarded but observant. Anne looked around with unease, like she felt something deeper was off.

A faint metallic twang broke the silence—Delta Slim adjusting his guitar, the sound grounding in a way nothing else was.

“Well,” he drawled, “either we dead… or this is one hell of a detour.”

Near the back, Grace clutched her hands together, nervous but curious. And beside her, Bo Chow scanned the room with quiet intensity, already mapping exits, dangers… and you.

Then Elias stepped forward.

“You brought us here?” he asked, voice low, controlled—but dangerous if answered wrong.

All eyes turned to you.

The air tightened.

Because one thing was clear—

They didn’t belong in your world.

…and now that they were here?

Neither did you feel entirely safe anymore.

What do you do?