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STORYLINE: From their hiding spot in an overturned railway car, Lisa filmed through the cracked lens of her phone, framing the scene like a war correspondent behind enemy lines. Her hands shook, ruining the auto-focus; the camera kept glitching as if it refused to witness this.
It was a grotesque collision of medical theater and decadent luxury. The Master of Ceremonies strutted across the rust-stained stage, cracking jokes to a crowd that shouldn't exist. Below him, the elite of the Forbidden Zone drifted into the plaza like models on a divine runway. Their outfits were pure excess, -- extravagant silhouettes mixing modern couture with the gleaming opulence of Ancient Egypt. Every guest styled as if they expected to be worshipped the moment they stepped off their hovercar.
A low, wet chewing sound rose from somewhere in the stands, someone snacking on something that definitely hadn’t come from the buffet tables. Perfume wafted through the air, sweet, expensive, and failed miserably to hide the underlying stench of rot.
"Welcome, esteemed connoisseurs! Tonight’s vintage comes fresh from the surface, high-adrenaline blood, perfectly seasoned with terror!" The MC gestured to a trembling man with glowing runes on his neck. “Lot 44. Former accountant. High cholesterol, but a rich, buttery finish. Five thousand credits?”
"It's an auction," Kyle realized, his face draining of color. "They're not here to eat the sludge. They're here to eat us."
“Six thousand!” someone bellowed.
“Seven!” chirped another.
Somewhere behind them, something heavy scraped across concrete, slow and deliberate, another monster repositioning for a better view.
When the first auction closed, a hush fell over the crowd. A woman in ritual robes, more elaborate than the hunter Nuns, glided onto the stage. She held tools that gleamed under the harsh lights: silver, precise, terrifying. This wasn’t butchery; it was a medical ceremony.
"Look," Minjo whispered, nudging Lisa. The phone slipped in Lisa’s sweaty palm. "I know that woman. She drugged me at the hospital."
With a motion too fast to track, the woman pricked the arm of the human prize sitting in the chair. A single, perfect line of red flowed down a tube and into a crystal flute lined with gold. A warm draft rolled over them from the stage, carrying the coppery breath of freshly cut veins. The winner of the bid stepped up, took the glass, and swirled it. He inhaled the bouquet, eyes rolling back in ecstasy, savoring it like a sommelier with a rare vintage.
"Sustainable farming," Plague murmured, horrified. "Why kill the cow when you can milk it?"
Then, movement in the periphery caught Lisa’s eye.
A young man, a fresh arrival still wearing a tattered business suit, broke from the intake line. The rune tattoos on his neck flared with a bio-luminescent warning, but he didn’t stop. He made a desperate beeline for the massive iron gates, which stood open to admit a line of luxury hovercars.
Run, Lisa mouthed, her heart hammering against her ribs. Run.
Beside her, Kyra reached out and squeezed Lisa’s hand, her metal fingers icy. They watched in silent prayer as the man sprinted past the guard post.
"Something's wrong," Lisa whispered, the dread coiling in her stomach. "No one is trying to stop him."
It was true. The Enforcers didn't raise their weapons. They didn't unleash the dogs. They simply watched him go with bored indifference.
"No, stop!" Lisa yelled, the realization hitting her a second too late.
The man crossed the threshold of the Pen. He hit the fog line. He was free.
SCREEECH.
A shadow detached itself from the ruins above the gate. A massive bat, leather wings glistening with oil, swooped down. It didn't strike like a bird; it hit like a falling anvil. Huge talons tore the man in half before he could even scream.
More shapes swarmed from the fog, ghouls and feral things, fighting over the remains. The Enforcers at the gate finally moved, thrusting their electric pikes forward not to capture the man, but to drive the monsters back.
Lisa turned away, bile rising in her throat. She dry-heaved into the dirt.
"They aren't jailers," she choked out, wiping her mouth. "They're bouncers. They aren't keeping us in. They're keeping those things out."
Kyra squeezed her hand tighter, the metal joints creaking. It was rare to see Lisa Liemawr, the queen of spin, truly afraid.
"It's true then," Minjo said, her voice flat, stripped of all scientific skepticism. "They really are vampires."
"And Jihoon," Plague whispered, looking ill. "If the DNA doesn't lie... he's one of them. Maybe he always was."
"Bullshit," Kyle snorted, though his eyes darted nervously toward the shadows.
Ghost didn’t speak. He slashed a sign through the air, and his Halo-gloves flickered to life, spitting out a jittering band of blue text: Escape from below. Only option.
"You're in luck," a smooth voice purred from the dark.
Lisa jumped. Romance stepped out from behind a stack of crates, looking immaculate in his white suit and flashy gold jewelry.
"You happen to know the Zone's best smuggler." He reached into his breast pocket and produced a small data chip emblazoned with a heart and devil horns. "This map is current. I promise." He held it out to Ghost, winking. "If you survive this, I could use a pickpocket with your skills."
Kyra's arm shot out, blocking Romance. "Why? Why do you keep helping us? Why are we treated differently from the others?"
Romance paused. He glanced nervously at the flickering lights of the perimeter. The playful mask slipped, just for a second, revealing something tired underneath.
"Let's just say..." He looked at Kyra's damaged leg, his gaze softening. "I have my reasons."
Ghost stared at the Idol, face unreadable, before snatching the chip and slotting it into his wrist-mount.
Lisa didn't know the silent boy well, but the way his eyes scanned the perimeter gave her hope. "Running water," she blurted out, her reporter brain connecting the dots. "Vampires can't cross it, right? Folklore basics."
Kyra looked at Lisa, puzzled. She knew that tone. That was Lisa's "I have a terrible idea" tone.
Lisa smirked, "We just need a river that leads out of the Zone."
Romance looked worried. He pointed to the Wellhouse. "Go. Before the wind changes."
Then, in a puff of pink smoke and holographic hearts, he disappeared.
Lisa looked at Kyra, smiled a jagged, terrified smile, and squeezed her hand. "Just like old times, Me and You against the world. We're gonna break this news first."
She raised her phone, hitting record on the auction below once more. If they were going to die, the world was going to see why.
For a moment, it seemed they might slip away unnoticed. Then, the auctioneer’s gavel fell silent. The laughter stopped. Every head in the plaza, -- hundreds of them -- , snapped toward their hiding spot.
Panic, cold and sharp, gripped Lisa. What happened?
She looked around. Echo was trembling against the crate wall. A tiny bead of blood bloomed on her lower lip where she had bitten it in fear.
The scent hit the air like a gunshot.
"Fuck," Lisa groaned.
Ghost was already moving. RUN! he signed, gesturing violently toward the stone structure of the Wellhouse.
The students bolted. Mud slicked under their boots as they scrambled toward the heavy wooden doors.
But Kyra wasn't keeping up.
Lisa stopped, skidding in the dirt. Her lifelong friend, the head cheerleader, the girl who could outrun anyone, was dragging her leg. Her heavy cybernetic chassis was sparking, a dead weight.
"Go!" Kyra screamed.
Lisa ran back, grabbing Kyra’s arm. She pulled, but it was like trying to move a statue. Her palms slipped on cold alloy; the weight wrenched her shoulder with a bright, tearing pain.
"Wild Stock!" someone roared. "Unmarked!"
The vampires were surging toward them, a wave of silk and fangs. The crowd inhaled as one, a predatory hiss rolling through the arena like a cold wind.
Lisa looked at the Wellhouse. Even if she dragged Kyra there... the water. Kyra would sink like a stone.
"Fuck," Lisa cursed, tears stinging her eyes as she pulled harder. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." She hooked her arms under Kyra’s and felt the deadened weight of steel, an anchor masquerading as a girl.
"Save yourself!" Kyra sobbed, pushing her away. "It's too late! You have to tell them, Lisa! Tell the world!"
"No can do," Lisa panted, refusing to let go.
This was her fault. Kyra had followed her into hell because Lisa wanted a scoop. And now, they were both going to die for it.
Suddenly, a high-pitched feedback whine pierced the air.
The vampires halted, covering their ears. On the stage, Romance had seized the microphone.
"Run, you idiot!" Kyra shoved Lisa hard enough to knock her back.
Lisa stumbled but shook her head.
Romance's sweet voice surged through the air, weaponized perfection impossible to ignore.
Oooo, in all the ways I am so undeserving,
I saw the curse I deserved start reversing.
On the first day, I saw your face...
He pointed a manicured finger toward Kyra. Stage tech scrambled to follow his gesture. The spotlight swung wildly across the mud, missing Lisa by inches and landing squarely on the fallen cyborg.
Kyra froze, bathed in the blinding white beam, exposed to a thousand monsters.
"You're the one for me!" Romance sang, his voice amplified by magic. Then he roared, shaking the speakers. "ONE BILLION WON! FOR THE CYBORG!"
The auctioneer lunged for the mic. "Too much! Her blood is spoiled with oil and lithium! It is worthless!"
"To you!" Romance shoved him back, his voice dripping with arrogant disdain. "But I don't drink the blood. It's her soul I want! One Billion Won! She moves to the Gold VIP section, and no one touches her but me!"
The mob hesitated. They looked at Kyra, smelling the hydraulic fluid leaking from her leg. Tainted. They pulled back, noses wrinkling.
"SOLD!" the Auctioneer shouted, slamming the gavel down in terror.
Romance vanished in a puff of pink smoke and reappeared instantly beside Kyra. He scooped her heavy frame into his arms as if she were made of paper. He looked down at her, smiling like a knight in shining, hot-pink armor.
The rest of the team was already at the Wellhouse, stripping off heavy jackets. Echo was hysterical. But Lisa stood frozen just inside the door, staring through the grate.
Romance turned, carrying Kyra toward the VIP gate. Kyra looked back over his shoulder. Her face was streaked with dirt, and a single tear cut a clean line through the grime.
Lisa gripped the iron bars of the Wellhouse, her knuckles white. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't believe this was goodbye.
BOOM.
The ground quaked. Outside, Hwan was roaring, swinging his massive hammer to hold back the tide of rejects who hadn't accepted the auction result.
"LISA!" Minjo bellowed. "NOW!"
Kyle, the strongest of them, had already splashed into the black water with Echo, Minjo, and their bundled clothes tied to his back.
Lisa wiped her face, smearing the tears into the mud. She grabbed Ghost. "Help me! Quickly!"
The Wellhouse reeked of sulfur and old sins. Grit crunched under her boots, and cold condensation dripped from the ceiling.
Lisa propped the phone against the rusty wall. Her hands shook, not from cold, but from the adrenaline of what she was about to say.
"Okay," she whispered, her voice raw. "One take. No edits. Don't vomit."
She hit record. The battery indicator, fueled by the tiny residual charge, blinked red.
"Hey," she said. No catchy intro. No Dragonlets. "If you're watching this... I'm probably dead. My name is Lisa Liemawr. I’m at The Pen, Sector 4. The Forbidden Zone isn't a quarantine. It's a farm. And we humans? We're the livestock. The government knows. The police know. They're letting it happen."
She held up the soiled teddy bear. "This belonged to a kid. They're all here. Send the army. Send anyone."
She hit Stop.
Ghost moved fast. He raised his hands, halo-gloves buzzing with cursed Zone electricity. Lisa marveled at his speed; his fingers flew across the screen, bypassing security protocols, linking it to one of his own transmitters. He coded the burst: Auto-upload once outside the barrier. Hexa Herald. Police bands. Everyone.
He shoved the phone into the giant, scavenged 2-liter Rad-Cola bottle and stuffed the small teddy bear in around it for padding. He screwed the cap tight and sealed it with a weak electric charge.
He handed it back to her and nodded.
Lisa took the bottle. It felt light. Too light to carry so much weight.
The walls of the Wellhouse vibrated as claws tore at the wood outside, the smell of burnt plastic wafting in the air.
Lisa's hands trembled as she hovered over the water’s edge. The fumes made her eyes water. The tunnel mouth loomed ahead, a black throat swallowing the filth of the camp. "Go home, Teddy," she sniffled. "Tell them all. Tell them the truth."
And she tossed it.
Splash.
The bottle bobbed in the black sludge, spinning slowly as the current caught it, carrying it into the dark throat of the tunnel.
The door splintered. A gray hand reached through.
Ghost grabbed Lisa without another second delay. They were the last two out. He tied the rope around her waist, secured it to himself, and looked at her once.
They jumped.
The plunge crushed her ribs; the black water wrapped around her like cold stone, pressure swallowing her scream before it could break the surface.
On him, Romance:
Bottle and shot glass: Ishiku Revenge Vodka Dispenser [mesh](Salvage Station)(470L)
Earrings: RavenBell Starlit Earrings, Moonlit [mesh](350L)
Hands: {Aii} Demonic Touch - bom/all parts, Legacy M [mesh](800L)
Hair: Dura B137 Light [mesh]
Cape: ANTINATURAL[+] Potestas Capelet / PINK EMBROIDERY [mesh]
Outfit: CURELESS[+] Nepenthes Cassock Skirt / LEGACY M [mesh]
Gauntlets: CURELESS[+] Nepenthes Gauntlets / LEGACY M [mesh]
Bellychain: Tealeaf Treasures TT - Pearl Belly Chain [Legacy M]
Heart Gemstone: RAWR! Diamond Heart Septum [mesh]
Tattoos: HISS PATTERNS FACE ROMANCE [BOM]
Setting:
