A teenage girl walks down a rain-slick alley. Alone. No memory, no direction, and though she doesn't know it yet, no chance of getting through the night without a little monster trouble.
Behind her, a vampire stalks, all hunger and confidence. He's had better nights, but hey, everyone's got to eat.
The girl pauses. Something's missing. Something important. It's not her wallet. It's not her phone. It's something deeper. Soul-deep. Her chest aches like it's trying to remember what her brain can't.
And then—
"Not today, a-hole!"
Cue: big superhero entrance.
The girl spins, heart hammering in her chest, clocks the vampire approaching fangs out and immediately forgets about said vampire. Because wow, the woman between her and the bloodsucker looks like she stepped out of a very expensive music video about punching evil in the face. Yellow-and-black armor, giant sparkly X on her chest, fleur-de-lis centerpiece, motorcycle helmet with a crown on it. The boots? White. The kind of white that says, I fear neither dirt nor budget constraints.
She's mid—hand-to-hand ballet with the vampire, and it's not going well—for him.
"Ssshe is my prey!" he hisses. "I found her firssst!"
Yellow just hits him harder. No words. Just righteous butt-kicking. If you could bottle her efficiency, you could clean the whole planet in an hour.
The girl should run. She doesn't. Because somehow, this fight feels like the only real thing in her life right now. And okay, maybe she kinda wants the vampire to get hit harder.
Bad luck. Or fate.
The vampire, smarter than he looks, plays possum long enough to inch closer to his snack. He's not planning to win, just to bite. Just one taste, one second of bliss before dust and nothing. A stupid, tragic kind of poetry.
Bad luck. Or fate.
Everything happens all at once.
The girl turns at a noise behind her which is very the wrong move. Vampire lunges. Hero Yellow throws a something. And a glowing shield whips through the air, decapitating him mid-leap. Perfect form, perfect throw. The kind of shot that makes you wonder if she practices with frisbees on weekends.
The vampire disintegrates, dusting the alley.
"Are you okay?"
The helmeted hero offers a hand to help her up. When did I fall down?
The girl stares at it. Then at her. Then at where the vampire was.
"What—who—what—?" she manages.
"Right. Overload. Happens a lot. Hold on."
The hero points her gauntlet at the girl. A gold laser grid washes over her.
"Cool," the girl mutters. "Nothing like getting lasered."
"Ooh. You're Untethered," the hero says, scanning her wrist display. "Right. That explains the amnesia, the aura, the… general 'lost puppy in a horror movie' vibe."
"I'm what?"
Before she can protest, the hero grabs her wrist and suddenly reality flips itself inside out. The alley vanishes. The world snaps.
They're somewhere else. Somewhere cleaner. Brighter. Safer-ish.
"Sorry," says the hero. "Didn't want to risk eavesdroppers. You'd be amazed how many things can hack alleyways."
The helmet comes off.
"You're a robot?!"
"Ha! Oh! Right, forgot about the masking."
She touches something on her wrist and the smooth metal face ripples and resolves into a stunningly human one—liquid gold eyes, dark hair in a ponytail, red ribbon, the whole "friendly apocalypse warrior" look.
She smiles. It's blinding. The kind of smile that makes you forget your trauma for half a second.
"You with me now?" she asks. "Untethered reactions are my favorite. All shock and confusion and wait, do I have a face? Honestly, it's just adorable."
The girl exhales. "To say the least."
"Good! So, let's do exposition: you are from another universe. You fell through the cosmic cracks. Now your memories are scrambled eggs, and you don't know who you are or what you can do. Fun times."
"That… sounds insane."
"Oh, honey," the woman grins, "I decapitated a vampire with a magic shield less than five minutes ago. We passed insane three exits back. Name's Shini Thana, by the way."
A blue holographic panel pops up in front of the girl's face:
[Shini Thana has sent you a Friend Request.]
Shini gestures. "Just think 'yes.'"
The girl blinks, thinks yes, and the panel flickers away. A faint warmth hums in her chest. A connection.
"Welcome to the Royal Citadel," Shini says.
Something about that name cracks open a door in her mind.
Citadel. She remembers that word. It's not a good word. And—
Mahana Sahi.
Mahana Sahi.
Her name. It's her name. And it feels like oxygen after drowning.
"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Thana."
"Just Shini, please."
"Okay, Shini. I'm Mahana Sahi."
"Perfect. So! This world runs on the System: it's basically your résumé but with cosmic flair. Tracks your skills, potential, occasionally makes people existential. And since we're now friends, I can take a peek at your stats—whoa!"
The shock is visible on Shini's face. "Okay, that's... that's... Wow. Mahana, your numbers are ridiculous. Like, 'bend reality and still have time for brunch' ridiculous."
Mahana frowns. "That's... good?"
"Oh, it's amazing. Say, you busy tomorrow? Want to conquer the world?"
Mahana smirks, the first hint of real joy on her face. "Do I get a cool biker suit like yours?"
Shini freezes. Then laughs. "Oh stars, I did forget I was still wearing this thing." She taps the crystal on her chest, and in a shimmer of light the armor dissolves, revealing a sleeker, strappier red-and-black number. "Better?"
"Marginally."
Shini scrolls through a holographic menu. "Let's see… You've got resonant bonds with six people, enmity with two. Hmm. That's enough to triangulate a home dimension. Maybe even send you back."
For the first time since the alley, Mahana smiles. A real, unguarded one.