A man in a dark trench coat stumbled into existence beside a plush sofa, one hand braced against the armrest like he'd been yanked mid-stride. His turquoise eyes were wide, darting.

Before anyone could respond, another figure blinked in. Then another. A cascade of bodies, all arriving the same way—haphazard, disoriented, and very, very confused. A white-haired woman in a cardigan steadied herself against the wall. A tall, scarred man with heterochromatic eyes stood rigid, scanning the room. A petite woman in a hero costume stumbled into a floor lamp, cursing under her breath as it wobbled.

The words boomed, but even Endeavor's voice cracked at the edges. The room you were all standing in was warm, lived-in. Worn couches, a fireplace, family photos on the mantle—none of which you recognized. All of you were strangers here.

The room fell into a tense, electric silence. Twelve people. One house. No exits.