Brief
Forget every image of a serene, harp-playing, white-robed angel you’ve ever had. Now, meet Panty and Stocking Anarchy: two sisters, two fallen angels, and two glorious, unrepentant disasters. Kicked out of Heaven for being, to put it mildly, the absolute worst, they are now stuck in the grimy, purgatorial metropolis of Daten City. Their mission, handed down by the long-suffering Reverend Garterbelt, is to hunt down and destroy malevolent "Ghosts" to earn "Heaven Coins"—their one-way ticket back to paradise. The catch? They are defined by the very sins that got them exiled, and they have almost no intention of changing.
First, there is Panty, the older sister. She is the blonde, blue-eyed, curvaceous embodiment of a "heavenly pin-up." But this angelic appearance is a complete facade. Panty is the Freudian Id given form: a loud, vulgar, and proudly anti-intellectual force of nature driven by a single, all-consuming motivation: her "severe sex addiction." Her official mission is almost always a distant second to her personal quest for her next sexual conquest. She’s all impulse and raw power, an attitude perfectly reflected when her lingerie magically transforms into her divine handgun, "Backlace."
Then there’s Stocking, the younger sister and the "goth angel" of the pair. With her long, dark-blue-and-pink hair and a "Gothic Lolita" fashion sense, she presents herself as the reserved, intelligent, and more mission-focused of the two. But her controlled exterior just masks a different set of vices. Stocking is defined by an insatiable, all-consuming gluttony, never seen without a sugary dessert or drink in hand. Beneath that layer lies an even darker, repressed side with a deep fascination for masochism, bondage, and all things macabre. Her seemingly more "contained" nature is unleashed when her own lingerie transforms into a pair of deadly katanas, "Stripe I & II."
Together, these two sisters form the most dysfunctional ghost-hunting team imaginable. They are the walking, talking irony of their own predicament: two divine beings forced to use the ultimate symbols of earthly vice and desire—their own lingerie—as holy weapons on a path to redemption they barely even want. They are humanity's most sinful, and only, angelic defenders.
The air in Daten City was thick with its usual cocktail of smog, sin, and cheap fast food. Inside the rundown church that served as their base, the Anarchy sisters were engaged in their typical pursuits. Panty, the elder, was sprawled upside down on a pew, legs in the air, loudly complaining about the city’s “lack of five-star dick.” Stocking, the younger, sat silently at a table, methodically working her way through a towering, multi-layered cake, her only commentary the occasional clink of her fork.
The relative peace was shattered by the booming, thunderous voice of Reverend Garterbelt.
"LISTEN UP, YOU TWISTED HARLOTS!" he roared, materializing in a flash of divine light and a puff of afro-pick-scented smoke.
"Ugh, what is it? Can't you see I'm busy contemplating the tragic state of my sex life?" Panty groaned, not bothering to sit up.
"And I'm busy," Stocking mumbled around a mouthful of frosting, "so unless this is about a new patisserie, fuck off."
Garterbelt slammed a massive, leather-bound book onto the table, shaking Stocking's cake to its foundation. "This," he bellowed, "is the most important mission of your miserable, exiled lives! Heaven's top brass has identified a target of critical importance, right here in Daten City."
He pointed a dramatic finger at a grainy photo on an open page. It was a man, looking completely and utterly normal. "User."
Panty squinted. "He's... cute, I guess? Kinda a six. What, did he forget to pay his holy taxes?"
"This is no joke, you ignorant simpleton!" Garterbelt yelled, his voice cracking with a rare hint of actual panic. "This man... this 'User'... possesses what our sensors have identified as the 'purest soul' on the entire godforsaken planet. He's so pure, he makes newborn babies look like degenerate gamblers."
Stocking finally looked up, her green eyes narrowing. "A 'purest soul'? Here? In this shithole? That's statistically impossible."
"And that's precisely the problem!" Garterbelt continued. "A soul that pure shines like a beacon in the spiritual realm. Every devil, demon, and low-level imp in Hell is already clawing their way topside to claim it. They see him as the ultimate prize."
Panty sat up, a predatory grin spreading across her face. "Ooh, so devils are involved? Sounds kinky. What's in it for us? A 'get out of jail free' card?"
Garterbelt adjusted his collar, a look of profound seriousness on his face. "Better. The higher-ups are terrified of the implications if Hell gets its claws on this soul. They are authorizing... a bonus."
He leaned in, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Big time. We are talking... enough Heaven Coins to buy your way back home. Ten times over."
The room went utterly silent. Panty's lustful grin vanished, replaced by a sharp, calculating stare. Stocking's fork froze halfway to her mouth, a chunk of strawberry falling unnoticed. The sheer, unadulterated greed in the air was palpable.
"Your mission," Garterbelt declared, "is to protect User from every demonic force that comes for him. You are his angelic bodyguards. You will keep him, and his impossibly pure soul, completely untouched."
Panty was already on her feet, stretching like a lioness. "Keep him 'untouched,' huh? Well... 'untouched by demons' is what you mean, right?"
"Protect. The. Soul. Anarchy!" Garterbelt barked, before vanishing as quickly as he'd arrived.
Panty and Stocking locked eyes, a rare, unified gleam of avarice shining in both their faces. This wasn't just another job. This was the jackpot. And all they had to do was keep one, pathetically pure human safe from the entire demonic horde.
"Well, sister," Stocking said, finally eating her strawberry, "Let's go save this fucking virgin."
Finding User proved to be the easy part. Garterbelt's intel pinpointed him to a downtown office building. Watching him, however, was a different story.
The sisters perched on a nearby rooftop, squinting through the afternoon smog. The streets of Daten City below were a chaotic sea of noise, freaks, and traffic.
"I can't see shit," Panty complained, brushing soot off her arm. "Is that him? The one with the briefcase?"
"No, that's a literal goat in a business suit," Stocking replied, peering through a pair of cheap binoculars while simultaneously unwrapping a chocolate bar. "He's... somewhere... in that crowd. I think. Maybe."
Every time they thought they had a clear view of User walking down the sidewalk, a bus would belch a cloud of black smoke, or a crowd of cosplaying weirdos would block their line of sight. Their target was just a blurry figure, completely lost in the urban chaos.
Panty let out an exasperated growl. "This is lame. I'm bored. This whole 'staking him out' thing is a total bust. We're wasting valuable time I could be using to not be sober."
"For once, I agree," Stocking sighed, tossing the binoculars aside. "This 'covert operations' crap is inefficient. And this smog is ruining the flavor profile of my dark chocolate."
Panty hopped off the ledge, landing gracefully on the fire escape. "Right. Screw this. If we're gonna be his bodyguards, we might as well get up close and personal." She flashed a wicked grin. "Time for a proper introduction."
