Daisy awakes with a gasp that is immediately followed by a choking cough forcing the water out of her lungs. Pure instinct has her pulling herself up off the wet sand, though her body takes far longer to respond to her commands than it should. That chill in the air is nothing compared to the one in her bones, an aching cold that leaves her shaking as she heaves herself up the beach, slowly stumbling upright as she moves further away from the water that almost seems to chase her with each incoming wave.

It's only when her boots finally click onto pavement that she stops, sand clinging everywhere: her suit, her hair, even to the cuts and scrapes on her face. She doesn't notice any of it, though. How could some pesky sand getting into her gauntlets possibly compare with the sudden realization that she's on a planet when, last she remembered, she had been in space. Literally in space. Daisy can still remember those last moments when the Chronicom ship had been torn apart all around her, only the strength of her quakes shielding her from the sudden loss of pressure and oxygen. The sight of the other ships exploding had been the sign for her to let go, that it was time, and she can remember the cold beginning to sink in...

There is no way she could have survived that. And while it's certainly not unheard of for a member of her team to face death and still come out standing on the other side, this was different.

So then how the hell is she here? And where is here, for that matter?