Camp Syndicate: The Horror Movie Club (Escape from Club Apophis, 64)

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STORYLINE: Above the abandoned streets of Neu Seoul, citizens hid in darkness, watching nervously from behind their windows. No radio. No television. No internet. No power. And every so often, a scream echoed through the urban labyrinth as another human fell into the jaws of a hungry monster.

Against the blood-red sky, a swarm of bats swept over the city, their echolocation pulsing through the dark.

But these were no ordinary bats.

Far beneath them, in a concrete bomb shelter that smelled of candle wax and buttered popcorn, the Horror Movie Club was having the best night of its life.

“Quiet! Quiet! I’m about to die,” Hana announced, flopping across a sagging velvet sofa. She adjusted her top hat. She adjusted the dark mark on her neck, which she had officially declared part of the costume. Lucy, post-bite. (It was technically from Tae.)

“Lucy doesn’t die until act three,” said Hyun, not looking up.

He was busy at the far end of the shelter, cranking his masterpiece. A candle trembled behind brass and glass, the spring flywheel whirred, and a ghostly castle jerked across the concrete wall. Silent Horror Movie Night. Not one of them had ever managed to stay silent.

The blackout was the best thing that had ever happened to the club. The rest of Neu Seoul was sitting in the dark with dead screens. The Horror Movie Club had candles, a great-grandfather’s cinematograph, and snacks.

Somewhere outside, someone screamed. Long and wet.

“Haunted house two streets over,” Tae said happily, passing the bowl. “They’re really committing.”

Three sharp knocks rang against the steel door.

Everyone froze.

“Password!” Hyun called, giggling.

A pause. Then a voice, flat as a tombstone: “The children of the night. What music they make.”

The Horror Movie Club lost its collective mind. Hyun yanked the deadbolt, and smoke rolled out to meet the tallest, palest man Hana had ever seen. Black armor. White hair. A silver medal dangling from his nose ring. In his fist, a gadget hummed like an angry beehive.

Nobody in the Horror Movie Club had ever seen a costume that good.

"DUDE! Check it out!" Hyun shouted, pointing at man's gear. "Is that part of your costume?"

From somewhere down the street, a wet, guttural shriek tore through the night.

The others scampered to the door and gawked at him as he winced at the thick haze of smoke, scent of buttered popcorn, and the sharp, chemical reek of illegal substances leaking out from their hangout.

“NAH, DUDE! It’s a LARP!” Tae yelled, scampering over to gawk. “Awesome!”

Hana pushed past them. She saw his gaze flick to the dark mark on her neck and linger there, strangely clinical, like a doctor reading a chart. She decided to be flattered.

“Whoa...” She blinked up at him, her words slurring together. “Who invited the vampire hottie?”

She wrapped an arm around his tactical vest and tugged him inside. Before he could escape, she leaned close and pinned a badge to his sleeve.

“Now you’re an honorary member of the Horror Movie Club! So tell me,” she giggled, “what brings Mr. Dracula to our humble establishment?”

He peeled her arm away with cold, practiced restraint.

“I am not Dracula,” he said, perfectly serious. “I am Ashe.”

Tae brightened. “Ashe? Like Ash from Evil Dead?”

The man’s humorless face darkened. “No. Commander Ashe of the 101st Flying Bats, Night Troops. Second-in-command of the Vampire Nation.”

“DOPE!” the kids roared together.

“Take me to your energy source,” he said. “Now.”

The boys looked at each other and shrugged. “Uh, okay.” They led him to the club’s prized invention, a brass contraption clicking away at the far end of the shelter.

“What powers this?”

Hyun straightened, suddenly proud.

“Me. And one candle. Zero electronics, I’m kind of a purist.” He patted the brass like a prize horse. “It’s a magic lantern on the outside, but a cinematograph underneath. The spring flywheel keeps the film rolling after you crank it, and the reflector turns one candle into a searchlight. My great-grandfather had the original. I rebuilt it for Silent Horror Movie Night.”

Ashe studied the device as if memorizing every bolt. Then his eyes swept the shelter, measuring the exits.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

They watched him step outside and raise a comm with an oversized battery duct-taped crookedly to its side. Stamped on the battery was the word MONSTRUM above a serpent swallowing the sun.

“What's Monstrum?” Hana whispered.

“Dunno. Dude’s committed to the bit,” Tae whispered back.

The kids crowded the doorway, listening.

“President Spyder. Status report. No resistance in the skies. The streets, however, are crawling with Monstrum. Recommend remaining airborne.”

A deep voice answered through the static. “As expected. Any leads on the entropy barrier’s power source?”

Ashe raised a handheld meter, also duct-taped to a battery. It beeped slowly as he turned, scanning the dark street.

“Nothing yet. I did, however, confiscate a cache of their entropy batteries. I’ve commandeered their power to run my gear.”

“Take every single cursed battery you find. Leave nothing. Starve those bastards.”

Tae leaned too far, and the door groaned.

Ashe snapped his comm shut and looked at them.

“Under the authority granted to me by the United Nations, I order you to snuff all candles. Light attracts them. You are fortunate to be noticed by me first. Do not draw further attention to yourselves. Remain inside. Be quiet. Lock the door. The streets are unsafe.”

The kids stared at him. “Unsafe?”

“Monsters,” he replied curtly. “Hungry ones that do not obey international laws. Are you not aware Neu Seoul is a battleground between two supernatural superpowers, the Night Troops of the United Nations against the Monstrum criminal syndicate?”

The kids blinked at him.

He sighed and rubbed his temples, then restored his tired professional poker face.

“Fortunately, this structure should provide adequate protection. Ration your supplies. Keep the doors secured until the city is liberated from Monstrum.”

He closed the door.

Reluctantly, the club pinched out their candles one by one. Everyone except Hyun, who cupped the lantern’s flame in both hands like a mother shielding a newborn.

They pressed their ears to the steel. Muffled, Ashe’s voice continued.

“Excuse that interruption, President Spyder. As I was saying, the barrier's power source is not at this location. However, I may have found something else useful. Mechanical systems remain operational inside the barrier. Spring-driven mechanisms, for instance. Recommend retrieving military hardware capable of operating independently of modern electronics. Search the archives for historical mechanical designs, including those attributed to Archimedes.”

“He said ARCHIMEDES,” Tae whispered, glowing.

“Interesting,” Maximilian Spyder replied. “Continue to your next target.”

“Understood. You did cancel the bombing at this location, correct?”

A pause crackled through the static.

“Too late.”

Hyun cracked the door. “Did you just say... bomb?” His eyes widened.

Overhead, a thin, rising whistle grew louder.

Ashe glanced upward with mild, ancient exhaustion.

“A badly aimed one.”

He scooped all three students under his arms at once and, faster than the eye could follow, carried them deep into the shelter.

BOOOOM!

The missile struck a nearby structure. The shockwave slammed into the shelter, rattling its reinforced walls and showering the room with dust. Popcorn and sodas flew through the air.

Ashe did not flinch. He had curled around the three of them like a human shield.

When the dust settled, the Horror Movie Club lay amid the debris, covered in butter and sheer dread. Only the lantern still burned, throwing a ghostly castle across the dusty wall. Ashe brushed a kernel of popcorn off his breastplate.

“Who the hell are you, really?” Hana gasped. The slur was gone from her voice.

Ashe glanced at the crooked little badge on his sleeve and, with great care, straightened it. Then he lifted his chin, and for the first time all night something like pride crossed his tired face. The tarnished silver cross at his nose caught the lantern light.

“The one who earned this,” he said. “The one who found a dictator hiding from the Allies and brought his reign to an end.”

Nobody spoke. Hyun’s lantern was the only light left, still clicking, still throwing its small ghostly castle across the dusty wall. Ashe looked at it for a long moment. Then he looked at the three of them in their battered top hats and corpse-white paint.

Hana had the strangest feeling no one had told him he was cool in a very long time.

“Guard the flame,” he told Hyun quietly. “Old things aren’t useless. They might save your life someday.”

Before they could answer, his form flickered, dissolving into a dense, rustling cloud of white bats.

One small bat lingered.

Hana crawled forward, holding out a finger bloodied by debris.

“Wait. I know what you are.”

The bat turned its head toward her. A bead of blood glistened on her skin.

For a moment, the little creature seemed to consider her offer. Then it looked at the two things left on the floor: the Horror Movie Club badge and an old World War II pistol, its barrel etched with tiny fangs.

The terrified kids watched.

The bat regarded them with the same tired expression as Ashe, then swooped down, seized the badge in its tiny claws, and flew after the others.

The pistol remained on the floor.

With trembling hands, Hana picked it up and held it close to her heart. It was heavier than it looked, and warm, as if it remembered the hand that had held it.

Happy Halloween!

On Him, Commander Ashe:

Meter: Static - Spectre-O-Meter EMF Detector [mesh](Camp Syndicate)(325L)

Glove: FOE - WFTS - Gauntlet [mesh]

Setting:

Skybox: LORE - Abandoned Hideout [mesh](Camp Syndicate)(375L)

Chains:  LORE - Ceiling Chains [mesh](Camp Syndicate)(350L)

Frames:  LORE - Horror Frames [mesh](Camp Syndicate)(300L)

Tall Mirror: LORE - Sights To Show You Mirror [mesh](Camp Syndicate)(225L)

Coffin suitcase: PSYCHO:Byts - Without Rest in peace - Coffin [mesh](Camp Syndicate)(250L)

Mirror, Candle: Candle & Cauldron - C&C Oracle [mesh](Camp Syndicate)(149L)

3 Skulls: Cica's - 3 skull sticks [Animesh](Camp Syndicate)(350L)

Furniture: Eclectica - Charming Bureau, Charming Shelf [mesh](Camp Syndicate)(300L)

Board Game: Web Dew - Foggy interactive game [mesh](Camp Syndicate)(725L)

Wall mirror: Fetch - Webbed Mirror - Red PBR [mesh](Camp Syndicate)(199L)

Ticket Rolls, stand: HAUNT - Ticket Rolls  [mesh](Camp Syndicate)(249L)

Sofa, decor: KraftWork - Horror Movie Night set [mesh]

Popcorn machine: Merak - Vintage Popcorn Machine - Red [mesh]

Popcorn: Apple Fall - Buttery Popcorn [mesh]

Movie Projector: Linden Labs - SL23B - Movie Projector [mesh]

BONUS IMAGES: inworld raw shots,  midday sky, default camera:

Camp Syndicate: The Monster Lady, 1 (Escape from Club Apophis, 63)

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STORYLINE: Neu Seoul, 5pm

Helga trudged along the sidewalk, her arms aching as heavy grocery bags cut into her fingers. Beside her, Happy the Dino Dog darted between her legs, his bio-construct claws clicking sharply against the pavement.

"Watch where you're going, you little menace," she scolded him playfully, juggling the plastic handles.

Ten days ago, she’d found Happy beside the wreck of Lisa Liemawr’s car, guarding the missing Hexa Herald reporter’s halophone. Lisa’s last broadcast had been looping on its screen, insisting the Forbidden Zone wasn’t radioactive at all, that it was full of monsters. Helga had only meant to do the right thing. She’d pressed Share.

Instead, she'd turned her life into a waking nightmare.

Happy's tail wagged furiously, his scaled snout lifting to sniff the evening air.

Her halophone chimed. Helga groaned, trying to balance two overstuffed grocery bags on one knee while fishing the device out of her coat pocket. Her inbox had exploded with toxic stupidity. Cruel memes. Insults. Badly photoshopped creatures holding political signs featuring her face, as though she were their preferred candidate for president.

She had blocked accounts. Reported them. Ignored them. Nothing worked.

Then a message from Mira appeared.

Mira, founder of the Romaniacs, had arranged that surprise meeting with DJ Romance, the celebrity impersonator. She'd been strangely quiet ever since.

GET OUT OF THE CITY. NOW.

Her thumb hovered over Delete.

A prank. It had to be a prank. But it wasn't like sweet Mira to make fun of her.

Happy stopped weaving around her ankles. His leathery ears twitched. He turned toward the end of the block, letting out a low, vibrating growl.

An icy breeze made her shiver and she tightened her coat. "Come on, Happy," she whispered, quickening her pace.

When they reached her apartment building, Helga's stomach turned. Splashed across her front door in wet red paint were the words MONSTER LOVER.

Happy shoved against her leg, growling at the door.

For the past ten days, he'd appointed himself her personal bodyguard. He slept outside her bedroom and followed her everywhere, even to the bathroom. She'd never had the heart to tell him his vigilance was unnecessary. She wasn't Lisa Liemawr, forever stirring up trouble and making enemies of the rich and powerful. Helga had always lived a quiet life, far from that kind of danger.

Until now.

For a moment, she couldn't move. Happy pressed close, his growl rumbling through her leg. For the first time, she was grateful for his overprotectiveness.

She dropped the grocery bags onto the grass and fumbled for the paper towels. The thick, wet paint smeared beneath her frantic scrubbing.

Lisa Liemawr had gone missing trying to expose the truth about the Forbidden Zone. Helga had only shared the broadcast. She hadn't done anything to deserve this.

Behind her, Happy began to bark again and again.

Her halophone vibrated. Ringing. Ringing.

She snatched it up, ready to turn it off, but stopped dead.

Glowing across the screen was Caller ID: DJ ROMANCE.

She stared at his perfect idol picture and touched her lips, which had never quite stopped tingling since his kiss.

How did he have her number? Mira must have given it to him.

Her thumb hovered over the answer icon. If she didn't answer, she'd spend the rest of the night wondering whether it was really him.

She accepted the call. “Um… hello?”

"Helga."

His voice. That deep gravitas. Her heart skipped a beat. It really was him.

"DJ Romance?" she whispered. "Are you... are you mocking me too?"

The screen flickered wildly with static. Romance's panicked voice crackled through the speaker.

"Helga, listen to me. Please. Get out of the city. Go now!"

She swallowed hard. "You sound just like Mira."

Static swallowed Romance's reply. "If you can't..." His voice broke into a glitching distortion.

Then silence.

Helga's battery icon plunged to zero.

The screen went black.

"Hello? Romance?"

She tapped the screen, then held down the power button. Nothing.

A deep pulse reverberated through her jaw. She felt it in her teeth, a low-frequency hum rising through the pavement beneath her feet.

Helga looked around, trying to locate the sound. Several blocks away, a billboard flickered. Its brilliant advertisements stuttered through bands of static before the entire display went dark. Then, the streetlamps died in a long, dark cascade toward her.

Happy stopped in his tracks. His scaled head snapped upward.

Helga followed his gaze, her breath hitching.

The blood-red sky stretched outward like an open wound over Neu Seoul.

A cold wind swept through her hair.

The smell hit her a moment later. Damp earth. Stagnant water. And beneath it all, something sweet and rotten.

Happy's collar frills sprang fully open. He planted his feet and faced the street, snarling so fiercely that the sound rattled in his chest.

Helga gasped. She fumbled for her door key fob, aiming it at the door. Click. Click. Click.

Nothing.

The power LEDs on both the key fob and the door lock had gone dark.

She slammed her fists against the door. "Damn it!"

Behind her, Happy erupted into furious barking. He didn't look at the building, but at the street, his teeth bared, scales bristling along his tail.

She spun around. Whatever had frightened him was out there, somewhere beyond the darkening street. She couldn't see anything, but the hum was growing louder.

She ran to the neighboring building and beat on the door.

"Help! Please, let me in! Something's wrong out here!"

For a moment, there was only the sound of her own breathing and Happy's desperate barking.

Then she heard a soft movement on the other side of the door.

Someone was home.

"Please!" she cried, pounding again.

Whoever it was, they were as scared as she was. She couldn’t even blame them.

A heavy, wet dragging sound echoed through the unnatural quiet of the blacked-out street.

Helga backed against the front door, petrified. “Oh, God...”

Out of the shadows shambled a horrifying figure in a torn, blood-stained dress. Its head lolled at a nauseating angle, a filth-caked burlap sack tied tightly over it. Dark fluid seeped through the fabric. No signs of breathing. Its joints clicked like dry twigs with every jerky step.

Happy charged.

"Happy, NO!"

The Dino Dog launched himself at the creature, claws scraping against the pavement. The thing lurched forward with a sudden, sickening burst of speed, its malformed arms reaching for him.

Helga couldn't see what happened next. She heard the crash of bodies, the scrape of claws, and a horrible series of wet impacts in the darkness.

"HAPPY!"

Something struck the pavement with a heavy thud.

Helga's stomach lurched. She stumbled toward the sounds, one hand reaching blindly into the darkness.

A furious bark answered her. Angry. Defiant.

Thank God. 

She barely had time to feel relief before another sound punched the air inward.

A violent WHUMP slammed through the street. Windows rattled in their frames. Loose paper towels and spilled groceries blew across the pavement as vibrant pink smoke erupted between Helga and the creature.

A second monster had appeared.

The smoke churned, swallowing the darkness around it. A vast silhouette rose through the pink haze, giant black bat wings unfurling against the blood-red sky, violet light pulsing through the membranes. Beneath a gat hat, magenta hair framed a face crowned with horns thrusting straight forward.

A gleaming scythe caught what little light remained.

Helga couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

The demon straightened, wings spread wide, its clawed hands tightening around the weapon.

It lunged toward the creature. A sharp, sickening whoosh cut through the darkness, followed by two heavy thumps against the pavement.

For a heartbeat, everything went still. A thin, luminous stream rose from the darkness, twisting up from the fallen body toward its destroyer. The demon inhaled, almost imperceptibly. The blue light vanished within its fanged jaws.

Helga touched her lips. That glow. She suddenly felt afraid. Very afraid

Happy's head snapped toward Helga. He sniffed, then turned toward the demon, lips curling back from his teeth as darkness swallowed them once more.

A scream erupted from the darkness.

It was impossibly loud, impossibly high, a glass-shattering screech that climbed and wavered in a sustained vibrato. The note went on without a single breath, a virtuoso performance of pure, unfiltered agony that seemed to force everyone within earshot to share its pain.

Helga clapped her hands over her ears.

Then something about the voice began to sound familiar.

The vibrato. The effortless control. That impossible high note.

Since childhood, she had adored that voice, playing all his songs over and over until she knew them by heart.

Helga slowly lowered her hands. She didn't need to see the demon to know.

No impersonator could ever hit a note like that.

“WHY ARE YOU BITING ME, YOU STUPID MUTT?” Romance howled. “LET GO! I'M TRYING TO PROTECT HER TOO!”

Happy Halloween everyone! For you Halloween needs, hop over to Camp Syndicate to see all the delightfully spooky things. Don't miss gifts, cool sim ambience, and the live DJ parties too!

On Him, DJ Romance:

Teeth, mouth, tongue: Seydr - Cryptid Maw [mesh](Camp Syndicate)(449L)

Lips: Misteria - Smoke [HD Applier](Camp Syndicate)(250L)

Straps: YUEBIN - BOUND Body Straps - [Legacy Athl] - black [mesh](350L)

Top: YUEBIN - RAZE Top - [Legacy (m)+Athl] Fatpack [mesh](1290L)

Pants: YUEBIN - Rift Pants - [Legacy (m)+Athl] Fatpack [mesh](1290L)

Eye, jaw: Cubic Cherry - Terror Jawbone, EYE  FATPACK [mesh]

Horns: Hollow - Nyx Horns [mesh]

Tail: Hollow - Nyx Tail [Bento] [mesh]

Weapon: ORPHIC - Kurohana Scythe - Shoulder L [mesh]

Hair: Raven Bell - Azriel Braids [mesh]

Bracers: Aii - Riftwind Mercenary - Legacy M Bracers [mesh]

Boots: CULT - Darkness - Legacy M [mesh]

Thong: Noche - James Thong Metallic Black [B0] - Athletic [mesh]

Hair: Dura - U129 -LIGHT -Men [mesh]

Hair: Dura - U135-Light(rigged)-Male [mesh]

Necklace: UKIYO - lisa necklace [unrigged + resizer] [mesh]

Heart: RAWR - Diamond Heart Septum [mesh]

Wings: Aii - Nefarious Wings M Bento (b.o.m.1) [mesh]

Claws, rings: NI.JU - Acantha Rings/Nails Set - legacy m [mesh](250L)

Hat: Dope+Mercy - Saja Gat, Sheer [mesh](Gift)

Earring: RavenBell - Starlit Earrings [Moonlit] [mesh](350L)

Tattoos: HISS - PATTERNS FACE ROMANCE [BOM](250L)

Eyes: Gloom - Savage Fantasy Collection - Sclera 03 - Yellow M [BOM]

Head: LeLUTKA - KANE [mesh](3990L)

Body: TheShops - [BODY] Athletic Meshbody (Legacy)(m) (1.7.1) [mesh](5000L)

Pose: DevinVaughn - created in Firestorm

Setting:

Skyline: Strange Merchant - Light City 1 [mesh]

Seoul Tower: Korea City

BONUS IMAGES: inworld raw shots,  midday sky, default camera:

Engine Room / Camp Syndicate: Scoop of the Century 3 (Escape from Club Apophis, 62)

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STORYLINE: Apophis ATELIER Underground, 5:00 PM

"A bit of advice, my dear. Never show weakness in a place like this."

MasterGin smirked, gloating over his victory. The sopping-wet teddy bear hung impaled on his manicured claws.

That bear held every piece of raw footage detailing the atrocities inside the Forbidden Zone, the only real evidence that could blow the story wide open and save the people trapped inside.

Without thinking, Lisa shoved him hard and snatched the soaked bear from his grip. Was it reckless? Absolutely. But you didn't become the lead investigative reporter on the Hexa Herald by playing it safe.

MasterGin’s pale eyes widened, his sharp face twisting into righteous indignation. Hissing, fangs gleaming, he seized the plushie back and flung it into a nearby trashcan with crisp precision.

Lisa watched it vanish beneath a pile of discarded silk scraps. A trail of wet stuffing and gray sludge marked its undignified trail across the polished white marble floor.

She stared down at her empty, soiled hands. Was this the end of the line? Was he going to kill her now? Would the relentless clatter of automated sewing machines be the last thing she ever heard? Or would she take her final breath surrounded by the heavy stench of clove cigarettes?

She felt sick.

MasterGin whipped a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket with an elegant snap of the wrist. Then he did something entirely unexpected: he took her dirty hands and began wiping them clean.

Lisa froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Wh-what are you doing?"

His touch was surprisingly gentle. He wasn't just wiping away the mud. His thumb massaged the tense muscles of her palms and fingers with firm, rhythmic pressure. He stepped closer, so close she could hear the soft intake of his breath. Lisa studied him, seizing the rare chance to examine an ancient vampire up close. His skin was flawless, no scars, not even the shadow of beard stubble, yet he looked paler than usual, faint violet shadows bruised beneath his eyes. Stressed? Overworked?

His thumb lingered over the pulse point on her wrist. His pale eyes held hers a fraction too long before he released her hands and stepped away.

"I don't make the rules," he said softly.

Her fingers trembled where his skin had touched hers. What was this, vampire jujutsu? Her palms felt slightly damp, coated in a faint floral fragrance. When she glanced down, a shimmering blue sheen glinted across her skin before soaking into her pores.

MasterGin flicked his chin toward the security camera mounted above his office doorway. One of its optical lenses zoomed in, focusing on them.

"Come with me."

He spun on his heels.

Lisa glanced at the camera. The watcher being watched? By who?

"Note to self," she murmured into her halophone mic. "My file on MasterGin needs a complete rewrite."

When she didn't move, he paused and glanced back, annoyance flicking across his features. "You want the Scoop of the Century. I want you to stop dripping sewer sludge on my imported marble. Come. I'll make it worth your while."

She hated herself for trailing after him like a stray puppy.

Steam hissed from the industrial pressing irons. Beneath the smell of hot starch and clove smoke, something older and far sweeter lay rotting.

As they walked, she secretly snapped rapid photos of the subterranean factory line, the towering looms, the demonic laborers, and the racks of multi-million dollar gowns.

MasterGin stopped beside a illuminated garment rack.

"This one." He pulled out a metallic gown that caught the factory lights like polished gold and held it up against her shoulder. "The bronze next to your golden complexion is divine."

"I can pick whatever I want?" She brushed past him, her eyes scanning the rack for the most ridiculously expensive price tag.

"Of course." He sounded amused by her sudden enthusiasm. "Do you doubt my generosity? I sent Yoon Jihoon dozens of custom pieces. I even formulated a specialized transdermal barrier that would have kept his skin from combusting in front of a stadium full of cameras."

Was that true, or just more theatrical bullshit?

"My flaw is not so different from yours, my dear. I merely wish to protect what is mine," MasterGin sighed, tossing her a heavy crystal bottle labeled SPF 100 Nano-Enhanced Sunscreen. "Would you believe that little Robotics Witch forced my sweet boy to incinerate every garment and gift I sent him? Pieces worth more than she'll earn in twenty lifetimes."

Lisa scanned the microscopic ingredient list on the bottle before slipping it securely into her dirty pocket. "He would've worn it if he actually knew what it was."

"His 'genius' girlfriend believed dime-store sunscreen could shield my precious creation from full glare daylight. He chose to follow her instead of me." His high-heeled foot stamped with irritation. "Rejecting my vision... for what? A Temu Scully?"

Lisa stared at the genuine, wounded expression on his face. "She's a scientist. How was she to supposed know things that aren’t real are real?" she blurted. "And I'm a reporter. I've got questions. Tell me what's real. But first..." She thrust the heaviest, most elaborate dress on the rack directly toward his face. "I want this one."

He raised an eyebrow.

"So I can have it?" Lisa pressed.

MasterGin slid a gilded privacy screen between them. "If you put it on immediately, yes. I refuse to let a sewer rat ruin the aesthetic of my private club."

He turned his back as the heavy fabric began to rustle behind the screen.

"Jihoon, eat your heart out," Lisa chuckled to herself, pulling gigantic elaborate gown over her shoulders. "I'm not burning shit. But you know I'm hocking this on eBay the second I get out of here, right?"

"Do what you will." MasterGin waved off her taunt as he pulled back the screen to inspect the drape. "It belongs to you now."

With swift, practiced grace, he gathered her tangled hair, twisting her braids into an intricate crown and pinning it in place with a sharp, winged gold tiara.

He snapped his fingers. A small demonic tailor shuffled out from behind the looms.

"Allow this gentleman to make the final adjustments. It will take only a moment."

Lisa opened her mouth to protest, the creature's skin was gross, its fingers tipped with long bone needles, but before she could take a breath, the work was finished.

The dress shifted, instantly tightening against her ribs, sculpting her silhouette into a flawless hour-glass without pinching her lungs.

"Whoa, neat trick! A corset built under a dress, but with no pain. What the hell kind of mystery fabric is this?"

The demonic tailor handed MasterGin a glowing halophone pad.

MasterGin lowered his tinted glasses, scrolling through the high-resolution displays before zooming in on a wireframe contour.

"Whatcha looking at?" Lisa stood on her tiptoes, trying to peek over his shoulder.

The screen displayed a full three-dimensional wireframe of her body, complete with precise volumetric measurements down to the millimeter.

"What the hell! Did that creepy thing just run a full-body scan on me?"

"You're welcome." MasterGin handed the pad back to the tailor. "Transmit these files to the clinic immediately. Have three complete looks prepared for her by tomorrow morning. I want her to dazzle."

The tailor bowed low and scampered into the shadows.

MasterGin raised a long, slender finger, gesturing for her to follow as he moved toward the exit. "That weave is strictly banned under UN regulatory accords. Fortunately, our syndicate doesn't recognize laws or international treaties. But be careful on eBay... I strongly recommend selling it on the Dark Web if you want full market value, instead of prison stripes."

Lisa stopped dead on the cold floor.

Unbelievable. He destroys her hard-won evidence, violates her personal space, scans her body without consent... and acts like he's doing her a favor.

"You’re a real fucking creep, you know that?" she yelled across the vast factory floor.

Every demonic worker along the assembly line froze. Dozens of yellow eyes turned to stare at her in stunned silence.

Lisa glanced nervously at the audience, swallowed hard, and gathered her heavy skirts. She sprinted after him, her bare feet padding against the cold marble.

Heavy hydraulic doors with the Monstrum logo carved on it hissed open into an underground dock. MasterGin was already seated inside a matte-black VIP hoverlimo, tapping his claws impatiently against the leather armrest.

"Seriously? I feel like I'm riding shotgun to Hell's Met Gala." She shook her head, though she had to admit the vampire had style.

Getting her enormous layered gown and its long train into the narrow door required brute force.

Thwack.

A thick wave of stiff crinoline and structured lace slapped MasterGin squarely across the face. The netting bounced off his cheek, completely collapsing his Marilyn hairstyle. 

He froze.

Closed his eyes.

Inhaled slowly.

Exhaled.

Then with deliberate composure, he extracted himself from the mountain of black lace and ribbon, smoothed his hair back into place, and rested his chin on his hand as if nothing had occurred.

Lisa stared at him, waiting for a reaction. She leaned closer, eyes gleaming, daring him to acknowledge the violation of his dignity.

His long claws clicked a rapid rhythm against the door. He kept his gaze locked on the dark tinted windows. Then, abruptly, his fist slammed down on the intercom button.

"Mirror, prepare the vat immediately."

"Understood, Master," a bright, synthetic British voice chirped through the speakers. "How much shall I prepare?"

"A face's worth."

"Very well. I shall have it warm and ready in fifteen minutes. Do hurry."

MasterGin leaned his head back, staring out the tinted armorglass into the subterranean transit tunnels as hoverlimo lifted, and shoot out of the dock with shocking speed.

Lisa looked too. Outside, disciplined rows of armored ghouls marched in tight, tactical formation in a huge cavern. A battalion?

"Are those for the Opening of the Mouth ceremony tomorrow?"

MasterGin turned back to her, offering a practiced, razor-thin smile. "High-profile security is mandatory, yes." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Forgive me, but no more questions for the moment. My mind is occupied, and I am exceptionally famished."

He really is almost charming when he isn't actively trying to murder someone.

Lisa grinned, thoroughly enjoying his irritation.

"As long as you attack that vat instead of my neck, we're good. It's blood wine, right? Some ultra-exclusive vampire vintage, am I right? MasterGin's gotta be stylish," she chuckled. "What I want to know is why you measure blood volume by body parts. What's the tea? Lisa’s gotta know."

He let out a low, musical laugh.

"Very well. Let's play a game. It is completely secure inside this transport, no surveillance cameras. But you only get three questions, and nothing more. I promise to answer truthfully. Choose wisely."

He held out his palm, expecting her halophone.

Give up her phone? Was he out of his freaking mind?

He gestured again, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Everything comes with a price, my dear."

She huffed, slapping the device hard into his palm. "I don't see you giving tours or expensive dresses to anyone else. Why me?"

"I like you." He placed the halophone on the velvet seat beside him, tapping it like a prized trinket. "You make me laugh."

"A bazillion-dollar dress because I make you laugh? Give me the real reason. You said you'd tell the truth."

MasterGin’s playful smile vanished. His posture shifted, becoming dead serious.

"You're a star. Or you would be if you had a face and body to match your charisma. I can help you with that." He flexed his long fingers like a plastic surgeon assessing a patient. "I have connections that could launch your career into global syndication overnight. You know it's true."

Lisa kept her face completely unreadable. "And? What's the catch?"

"And..." MasterGin leaned forward, his pale eyes catching the ambient cabin light. "I want you to serve as Master of Ceremonies for Jihoon's awakening tomorrow. I will spare no expense. Whatever production assets you require, you will have. We are en route to the Club Apophis now so you can scout the stage."

Lisa recoiled as if a snake had just bitten her. "What?"

"I am entirely serious. Think about the symmetry. I created Lathandro." He held up his hands, admiring his own fingers. "With these, I sculpted the masterpiece of Lathandro out of the rough, unpolished clay of Yoon Jihoon."

Lisa’s spine went rigid. She looked down at her hands. The shimmering blue film had completely absorbed into her skin. Her mind flashed back to the glowing blue cosmetic jar he had bragged about earlier, the compound he used to reshape his high-end clients.

"You were the one who made him a global sensation," MasterGin continued smoothly. "You discovered him. You moved millions in merchandise using his face and his name. You also broadcast his dramatic death live to the world. The hope of Jae Won University baseball spontaneously combusted live on TV. Afterward, you destroyed his legacy, peddling a brilliant narrative that he used illegal military grade biohacks to cheat his way through professional sports. Everyone bought it. I was thoroughly impressed by your narrative control. No one ever suspected the truth."

Lisa ground her molars together until her jaw throbbed. She hated that she had run those stories. She hated that he had blackmailed her into spinning those lies. That deep, burning rage was the exact reason she was sitting in this vehicle right now, searching for the single crack in his armor that would burn his empire to the ground.

"Tomorrow, you can resurrect this phoenix in the global media as the Chosen One rising from the ashes, witnessed by billions live on stream," MasterGin purred. "It is a spectacle only you can pull off, my dear. And if Jihoon wishes to retain you as his exclusive PR manager after he wakes, that will be his choice. Do we have an agreement?"

Lisa stared at him as if he had sprouted three snake heads.

"Consider this," MasterGin added, leaning closer. "Tomorrow, you could debut on the international stage with an exquisite new face, a sculpted body, hosting the most historic broadcast in human history: the birth of a god."

Lisa shot to her feet and smacked her head hard against the roof of the limo.

CRACK.

She collapsed into the leather seats in an undignified heap of ruffles, lace, and pain. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

A violent surge of nausea hit her throat.

"I'm gonna be sick..."

Before she could lean away, she vomited directly onto the front of the multi-million-dollar dress.

The wet splatter rang out in the quiet cabin, accompanied only by the soft hum of the anti-grav engines as they sped through the dark tunnels.

MasterGin didn't even flinch. He calmly pressed the intercom button. "Mirror, instruct the tailoring team to prepare a fourth ensemble."

“Shall I note a preference for stain-resistant fabric, Master?” the AI replied cheerfully.

Lisa wiped her mouth with the back of a red ruffle, her throat tight and burning. "And what happens if I say no?" she croaked.

MasterGin smiled, leaning back into his plush leather seat with absolute poise. "You won't say no. I've watched every archive stream recovered from your apartment. I know how your mind works. And I am genuinely looking forward to reviewing what you recorded on this trip as well." He picked up her halophone, casually twirling it between his long claws. "You noticed I personally restored and upgraded all your field gear. Did you never stop to ask yourself why?"

MasterGin held up three slender fingers, then slowly folded one down. “Consider yourself lucky. I’m lumping that exchange and barrage of clarifications under the umbrella of Question One. Two remain.”

Lisa stared at the floor of the limo, her chest heaving.

Shit.

She needed a strategy, and she needed it now.

Ask questions. Keep him talking. Find the flaw in his grand design.



On her, Lisa Liemawr:

Gown, Candelabra: Domus - Ravenmourne Dress, Ebody,  fatpack [mesh](Engine Room)(1699L)

Corset: VoluptasVirtualis - FOLIA.Corset [mesh](Engine Room)(475L)

Tiara: VoluptasVirtualis - FOLIA Tiara [mesh](Engine Room)(150L)

Metal legs: Evil Baby - Valerie's Legs - Metals Pack [mesh](Engine Room)(499L)

Metal arms: Nefekalum - Graven - Gold/Gold // Tattoo [BOM](Engine Room)(199L)

Hair: CAMO - Nefera F-Locs [mesh](Engine Room)(699L)

Earrings: SIGMA - Escape earrings [mesh](Engine Room)(320L)

Chocker: Sublime - Willa Choker, Fatpack [mesh](Engine Room)(500L)

Gloves: HEIKE - Disturbed Gloves (REBORN) [mesh]

Head, eyes, skin: LOGO - Dawn Desert Nomad [mesh]

Body: REBORN by eBODY v2.0 [mesh]

On him, MasterGin:

Outfit: One Days - [mesh](Engine Room)(350L)

Mask: Pendulum - Raviel [mesh](Engine Room)(1250L)

Heels: Arltos Afterlife - Enid, black [mesh](Camp Syndicate)(450L)

Hair: Ginko Hair - #200 Hair - Unrigged [mesh]

Cigarette holder: GRAAL SMOKING SNAKE [mesh](349L)

Head: LeLUTKA - CAMDEN 4.0 [mesh]

Body: TheShops - [BODY] Athletic Meshbody (Legacy)(m) (1.7.1) [mesh]

Setting:

Setting: Oblivis - The Grand Stone Gate Mossystone [mesh](Engine Room)(450L)

Wall candle holder: Blue Blood - Cradle Wall Candle [mesh](Camp Syndicate)(199L)

BONUS IMAGES: inworld raw shots,  midday sky, default camera:

Engine Room: Curse of the Biohacker (Escape from Club Apophis, 61)

(click to enlarge)

STORYLINE: Minjo’s Lab, Old Seoul, 5:00 PM.

Plague pushed open the heavy steel doors of Minjo’s workshop. The place was supposed to be the wholesome academic environment his parents were paying for, but right now it was a complete zoo. He braced himself for the usual sterile, hyper-organized hum of intellectual dominance. Instead, he walked straight into a full-scale domestic mutiny.

“Okay, what did you animals do while I was gone?” Plague muttered, dropping an overloaded duffle bag of provisions onto the nearest stainless-steel workbench.

Minjo’s automated maintenance bots had completely lost their minds. Two glowing Bug Lights darted through the rafters like caffeinated hornets, trailing ozone sparks and emitting rude digital squawks incessantly. Worse yet, the experimental Mechanical Daisy had snapped the lock on its terrarium. It uprooted its titanium stem and stomped across the floor tiles toward a pile of discarded snack wrappers.

As he passed the towering Chronal Resonance Viewer, he gave its colossal metal rings a cautious glance. It loomed over the center of the lab like a dormant titan, a stark reminder that his friends were still trapped inside the Forbidden Zone.

He cleared a corner of his desk, shoving aside a chaotic collage of research papers and receipts for a massive aquarium and bio-transport pod. On the wall beside his monitor hung a large, squeaky-clean whiteboard. Plague picked up a dry-erase marker and began to handwrite a To-Do List, complete with his own crude stick-figure illustrations:

1) Test Formula 1 & 2 (Drawing of two glowing blue bottles next to a twisting DNA helix)

Formula 1: MasterGin’s DNA Rewrite / Force Shift

Formula 2: Arrest Full-Body Metamorphosis

2) Cure Jihoon (Drawing of a sleeping stick figure with bat wings and sharp fangs)

3) Rescue Dr. Tanaka (Drawing of Plague in a lab coat, frantically pushing a sealed bio-pod on wheels)

4) Win Nobel Prize (Drawing of Plague high-fiving a giant jellyfish beneath the Nobel Prize crest)

Plague chuckled under his breath, capping the marker. The joke barely covered the nervous flutter in his chest.

He reached into his duffle and pulled out a hefty velvet-lined metal case brought back from Dr. Tanaka's underground lab. Ignoring the thick stack of dense research printouts and handwritten notes underneath, Plague bypassed the technical theory entirely and went straight for the prize. Impulsive? Absolutely.

He lifted out two gilded crystal bottles, each filled with liquid glowing a soft, bioluminescent blue.

The first bore a printed commercial label: GIN AESTHETICA™. Tanaka’s master formula for stopping DNA rewrite rejection, his life’s work repurposed into a weapon by MasterGin.

A nagging voice entered his mind. Minjo’s parting words echoed in his ears: “Jihoon first.”

“Sorry, Minjo. I have to know if it works.”

He pulled on a latex glove and unsealed the bottle. A cold, floral scent wafted up. He scooped a tiny dab of the glowing blue ointment onto his fingertip and approached the gothic freestanding mirror.

On his jawline sat an ugly weeping ulcer, a painful reminder of his failed back-alley CRISPR experiments. His attempt at Biohack Looksmaxing had turned into a living nightmare.

He clicked the timer on his stopwatch and smeared the glowing gel directly over the raw flesh.

A sharp, violent sting bit into his skin, like pouring concentrated lemon juice into an open wound. Plague hissed through his teeth, gripping the edges of the sink until his knuckles turned white.

He tracked the digital seconds ticking by. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Twenty.

Gradually, the burning sensation faded into a soothing, cool numb. Plague looked into the mirror and let out a soft sigh. The inflammation had subsided. The angry red edges had faded, and the damaged skin was beginning to close.

“Holy hell,” he breathed, a wide grin breaking across his face. “Tanaka, you absolute genius.”

Visual proof. It actually worked.

The triumphant smirk grew as he reached for the second bottle. This one was hand-labeled in precise Japanese calligraphy, stamped at the bottom with the red crest of Dr. Hoshu Tanaka: Formula to arrest DNA Rewrite.

Plague unzipped his bio-containment suit and peeled it back from his shoulder, exposing the left side of his chest over his lung.

Beneath his collarbone, the skin was semi-translucent with an oily sheen. Worse, a cluster of fleshy, feathery external gills, a nightmare leftover from his failed attempt to steal the axolotl’s regenerative powers, sprouted directly from his ribs. The surrounding tissue was raw and swollen, locked in a brutal war as his immune system violently rejected the amphibian mutation.

He scooped a generous portion of the second formula and rubbed it directly over the inflamed, translucent tissue.

He clicked his stopwatch and waited. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Half an hour.

Nothing happened. The gills remained swollen, angry, and raw.

His smile collapsed into a scowl. “Come on. Work.”

Frustrated, he reached back into the velvet case and pulled out Tanaka’s handwritten research notes, skimming the pages until his eyes locked onto an underlined paragraph.

“The arrest formula is context-dependent. To halt an active rewrite, the serum must be custom-synthesized using two distinct genetic markers: a pure baseline DNA sample from the host, and a pure DNA sample of the foreign contaminant.”

Plague blinked, processing the logic.

He stood up, walked over to a small terrarium on the side shelf, and tapped the glass. Inside, a cute, smiling albino axolotl blinked back at him lazily and ruffled its feathery pink gills.

“Sorry, buddy,” Plague said, pulling a sterile cotton swab from his pocket. “Your tissue-regrowth abilities are no longer required.”

He gently swabbed the inside of the creature’s mouth, transferred the sample into his benchtop centrifuge, and added his own archived, unmodified blood baseline. His custom-trained Biohack AI took over, mapping and comparing the two samples. He fed Dr. Tanaka’s Formula 2 into the AI, then did his own voodoo with the data before transferring the resulting formulation to the synthesizer. Within thirty minutes, the machine produced a tiny droplet of customized serum.

Plague applied the new mixture to his chest. This time, the reaction was instant. The fiery inflammation subsided as the genetic rewrite ground to a halt.

The extra gill tissue didn't magically vanish. It didn't dry up and fall off his body. No, his shame was permanent. But at least he wouldn't mutate further.

“Well, folks, I could always have a career in long-distance swimming.”

His recovery would take more work. The serum only worked on the surface. To treat an entire body, he needed a vaccine. After all, he didn’t want to burp bubbles at his parents while explaining how he spent a chunk of their fortune accidentally biohacking himself into a human-sized axolotl.

He turned back to his whiteboard.

He picked up a red marker and drew a large circle around Item 2. Beneath “Cure Jihoon,” he added: "Acquire a pure DNA sample of whatever is taking over Jihoon’s body. Compare to archived Jihoon pure sample. Create a vaccine using Formula 2."

He stared at the words for a moment. One problem solved. One much bigger problem remained.

CRASH.

A violent screech of tearing metal and shattering glass cut through the lab. The Bug Lights dropped mid-squawk and clattered across the tiles. The Mechanical Daisy froze, a snack wrapper clamped in its petals.

Plague bolted from the whiteboard to the reinforced window.

The sky was a bruised red. Out on the avenue, two hovercars had collided mid-air. One slammed hard into the glass facade of a neighboring high-rise, throwing showers of sparks down into the street. Below them, traffic lights flickered wildly and went dark.

A second ago, Old Seoul had been glowing with its usual neon-drenched rhythm.

Block by block, street by street, the electric grid collapsed. High-voltage streetlights popped into darkness. Gigantic holographic billboards dissolved into static, and entire skyscrapers plunged into shadow as the power failure cascaded across the horizon.

A total blackout.

“Shit!” He spun around and sprinted back toward his desk.

Every monitor, computer, bioreactor, and terminal flatlined at once. The central server fans whined down into dead silence. Hours of sequence logs, live culture readouts, and unbacked-up synthesizer formulas vanished behind dark, reflective glass.

Plague stared at his dead primary terminal. A vein throbbed violently at his temple. 

“No. No, no, no!”

With a furious sweep of his arm, he sent a rack of empty glass vials off the counter. They shattered across the floor tiles in a cloud of glittering dust. He dropped to his knees in the wreckage, grabbing his hair.

Was the data salvageable? How long until backup power kicked in?

He stayed on the floor among the debris, eyes closed. 

Interrupting his breakdown, was a deep sinister vibration he felt in his teeth.

His eyes snapped open. He knew that hum.

In the center of the pitch-black workshop, the massive ring of the Chronal Resonance Viewer blazed to life. The machine had been completely dormant ever since they disconnected it from the entropy-powered Black Snakeskin Box.

Violet circuitry snapped awake along its ancient metallic frame, casting long, eerie shadows across the ceiling. His eyes grew wide.

He whipped out his halophone.

Dead. Just like the power grid.

A bitter, humorless laugh escaped him.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the Forbidden Zone just engulfed my lab.”

Above Minjo’s desk hung an old paper map. His eyes traced a line from the Forbidden Zone, to MasterGin’s clinic in Gangnam, to the red dot of his lab in Old Seoul.

The Zone was the Zone. It wasn't supposed to move. No one who went inside ever came out, unless they were Monstrum. Or Jihoon. Or, apparently, Plague. But now the Zone was here.

He imagined all the people outside on the avenue, stumbling in the dark or staring at dead phones, maybe cursing the grid. None of them watching the sky for winged death.

He quickly bolted the doors, and closed the window shades. Hopefully, that will buy him time.

He swallowed, and turned his attention back to the immediate mystery.

The glowing violet rings of the Chronal Resonance Viewer were the only light in the room. The machine ran on the exact same energy as the Forbidden Zone.

Entropy.

But how?

He tracked a heavy-gauge power cable across the floor tiles, following it directly to the empty mounting dock where the Black Snakeskin Box used to sit.

The connection port crackled with raw, impossible energy. Small sparks of violet static danced across its copper teeth like feeding tendrils.

Hypothesis time. A stupid one, probably.

He had seen the Shadow Serpent twice. Once bursting out of the Black Snakeskin Box, once hovering over Jihoon at the Museum. And he had seen Jihoon’s cells. Half of them were fueled by something the Ai could only label as undefined.

Minjo’s words came back to him: “Foreign and unknown. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t biological.”

Hwan had said Jihoon was the Shadow Serpent’s master, and it would always return to him.

If the undefined half of Jihoon had a relative anywhere, surely it was the creature.

Plague pulled on a face mask and a pair of thick thermal gloves, grabbed a magnifying glass and a sterile swab from his kit, and knelt beside the spark-spitting port.

If the port held even microscopic dust from the Shadow Serpent, it would be worth the effort to study it.

He leaned in slowly, swab at the ready.

“Who’s a good little Entropy Electric Eel? Don’t be shy. Dr. Plague just wants a little sample.”



On him, Plague:

Glasses: Inktooth - Antique Optometrist Pince-Nez, realistic [mesh](Engine Room)(250L)

Top: GRAAL - COMSTOCK SHIRT/VEST, PANTS LEGACYA [mesh](Engine Room)(399L)

Armband, gloves, jacket: Starlit Endeavor - Vitala outfit + accessories [mesh](Engine Room)(2985L)

Bag: Starlit Endeavor - Vitala Bag, Bottles [mesh](Engine Room)(600L)

Book: Starlit Endeavor - Vitala Book [mesh](Engine Room)(600L)

Shoes: Deadwool Dandy shoes - black/silver wingtip [mesh]

Makeup: maledictus - Lacrimosa, red [BOM]

Hair: Dura - U122 -A: Men's [mesh]

Head: LeLUTKA - Kane Evolution [mesh](3990L)

Body: TheShops [BODY] Athletic Meshbody (Legacy)(m) (1.7.1) [mesh](5000L)

Setting:

Animesh: Apika - Dr. Plague - Deco Rezz [animesh](Engine Room)(499L)

Coffee Machine: ERG - Coffee Machine [mesh](Engine Room)(330L)

Sculpture: What's Lost Spirits - WLS MECHANICAL DOLL [mesh](Engine Room)(400L)

Staff: Starlit Endeavor - Vitala Staff [mesh](Engine Room)(600L)

Mirror: Fetch - Nightveil Mirror - PBR Textures [mesh](Engine Room)(199L)

Lights: Static - Cobblebug Wall Lamps PBR Copper [mesh](Engine Room)(325L)

Flower: Blue Blood - Preserved Mirage, Terrarium, Blue Flowers [Animesh](Engine Room)(199L)

Cabinet: C&C - Reactive Glass Cabinet - Vintage [mesh](Engine Room)(249L)

Skeleton: Cica's - skeleton worm [Animesh](Engine Room)(350L)

Lantern: LORE - Anglerfish Lantern [mesh](Engine Room)(350L)

Display: Dirty Rat - Plague Doctor [mesh]

Desk, Chair: Eclectica Curiosities - Steampunk office desk, chair [mesh]

Desk clutter 1: Den of Inquiry - Mortar & Pestle [mesh]

Desk clutter 2: RnR - Lab Frame A, B, Suspicious Fluids [mesh]

Pet: Milk Motion - Axolotl pink - static [mesh]

Aquarium: JIAN - Longfin Tetra Aquarium [mesh]

Portal: RS-Syn - Time Twist [mesh]

Skybox: C&C - The Widow's Workshop [mesh]

BONUS IMAGES: inworld raw shots,  midday sky, default camera:

Engine Room/Camp Syndicate: So Hungry (Escape from Club Apophis, 60)

(click to enlarge)

STORYLINE: “Hungry... So hungry…”

The voice pulsed in Kyle’s head like a corrupted audio loop that refused to die.

He panted, crouching low as he dragged Jihoon through the narrow, suffocating crawlspace. Jihoon was far heavier than he looked. All dense muscle and dead weight. And Kyle was rapidly losing patience. Crawling through the damp, reeking depths of the Forbidden Zone was bad enough, but doing it while hauling a comatose body was pure hell.

To make matters worse, their only source of light was the old, gutted television strapped to Jihoon’s head like a makeshift helmet. The damn thing flickered to life whenever it touched Jihoon’s skin, projecting a pale violet static down the muddy tunnel.

Jihoon. Comatose. Haunter of old televisions.

Just another cursed day in the Zone.

Up ahead, their guide, a massive, scaly beast known as the Shadow Serpent, slithered effortlessly through the dark, completely ignoring Kyle’s struggle. Low fog swallowed Kyle’s boots. Overhead, copper pipes dripped with a maddening rhythm.

A startled bat squeaked, its leathery wing brushing Kyle’s cheek. He jumped, jerking upward only to slam his head straight into the ceiling pipes. The metallic clang echoed down the length of empty tunnel.

“Oh, hell no,” he muttered, "That had better have been a flying rat and nothing else."

He dropped to his knees to catch his breath, easing Jihoon onto the mud. A second later, a dull thump echoed back from the dark.

Kyle froze. Echoes were supposed to fade, not boomerang back.

The television screen flickered and slowly died.

Total pitch darkness.

The Serpent was lurking nearby. The strange beast took many forms. Sometimes pure energy, sometimes a shadow. But right now, as it led them, it was corporeal. He heard the heavy rasp of scales sliding against scales. And when its rattle tipped tail brushed his hand, it felt icy and slippery.

Kyle dug through his backpack until his fingers found an entropy-powered battery light. It turned on with a heavy, satisfying click. Violet light flooded the narrow space. Finally, he could see where he was. Or at least, he could if there wasn’t a wall of undulating obsidian scales blocking most of his view.

The ground trembled. A cold draft rushed through the passage, carrying the smell of wet stone.

The Serpent suddenly hissed, its massive coils tightening into a defensive knot. Its head swung forward, then whipped back toward the way they had come.

“I told you Snakepoo,” Kyle grumbled. “Not the best route. Now we’re too far to go back, the hell if I know how much further ahead we have to go.”

The Serpent turned its massive head, giving him a look that somehow resembled a sheepish shrug.

"Right. Physical dead-ends aren't something a Shadow Serpent thinks about when picking a path."

Snakepoo suddenly looked up and flicked its tongue.

A deep concussion rolled through the tunnel walls, followed by the distant screech of tearing metal somewhere above them. The pipes shuddered in their brackets.

The Serpent froze, every muscle in its coiled body instantly rigid.

Fine grit rained from the roof.

Kyle frowned. “What?”

The Serpent leaned down, tenderly nudging Jihoon’s limp fingers with its snout. Then it looked straight up.

Far above their heads, something massive groaned beneath the weight of the earth.

Without a sound, the Shadow Serpent dissolved into a column of black vapor and shot straight upward through the solid rock ceiling. Just like that, the scaly bastard abandoned them.

“I don’t know if I should be happy or worried," Kyle muttered, letting out a long breath. That big ass snake made his skin crawl.

He gently placed a hand on Jihoon’s shoulder, “Looks like it’s just you and me now, Buddy.”

He unbuckled the dead TV helmet and pulled it off to give the guy some air.

“Hungry…” the voice murmured in his mind, like a recording stuck on repeat.

Kyle unzipped his pack to search for rations, but he already knew the truth. There were none.

He wiped sweaty bangs from his eyes and finally got a good look at Jihoon. The shy, nerdy runt he knew in school was gone, replaced by someone strikingly sculpted, pale, and otherworldly. Jihoon had been the first person to escape the Zone alive. And the Zone takes back what belongs to it.

“So hungry…”

“Could you stop that, Jih… I mean… Lath… Urgh. I don’t even know what to freaking call you anymore. Jihoon? Lathandro? Jihandro?”

Kyle grumbled as he gathered up the ridiculous mass of silky white hair spilling across the mud. In the tight, jagged crawlspace, floor-length hair was a massive liability, one snag on a copper bracket could snap Jihoon’s neck if they had to run.

“Seriously, dude, the hair is a problem,” Kyle muttered. His hands were surprisingly gentle as he began weaving the heavy strands together. “It looks badass, sure, but in the real world? Total pain in the ass.”

Jihoon remained motionless. Kyle tied off the braid as best he could with a frayed strip of cloth, resting his friend's head back down.

That was when he noticed Jihoon’s lips were parted slightly. He saw something white gleaming against his lower lip. Long. Sharp.

“Need…”

Kyle shifted uneasily. Sweat ran down his face.

Those teeth didn't belong in the mouth of his friend.

He looked left and right, then leaned closer to inspect them.

They weren’t what he was expecting. Not vampire fangs. They were thin and translucent, almost like quartz, with a delicate hinge at the gumline.

Kyle reached out with a trembling finger and tapped one.

The fang folded backward neatly against the roof of the mouth. When he released the pressure, it snapped forward again.

That’s when he realized what they were.

Snake fangs.

“Feed…”

A chill raced up his spine.

He used his thumb to gently peel back one of Jihoon’s eyelids.

The eye was rolled back, but the bottom edge of the iris was visible. The pupil wasn't a round human circle; it had narrowed into a vertical slit. And the color made Kyle's breath catch. He realized Jihoon’s teal eye color, that thing that had always made him unusual, was the exact same color as the Serpent's eyes.

Kyle gasped. As he recoiled, his hand caught the edge of the exposed tooth.

A thin line of dark crimson bloomed where the fang sliced his skin.

He stared at the blood welling up on his hand.

Then he looked back at Jihoon.

“Hungry….”

Kyle’s heart hammered against his ribs. "I know."

“So hungry...”

He gulped. He wanted to say something smartass about this situation, but the words died in his throat. He just sat there in the dirt, staring at Jihoon like an idiot.

Against every instinct he possessed, Kyle raised his bleeding hand back to Jihoon’s lips.

The hinged fangs deployed instantly, driven by pure reflex, and sank deep into the flesh of his hand.

Kyle squeezed his eyes shut and let out a sharp hiss. It felt like a white-hot needle driving through his palm, but within seconds, the pain dissolved into a weird, numb warmth. The sensation hummed through his core, heavy and intoxicating. He gasped, a faint moan slipping out before he could stop it. He knew he should be terrified, but a strange euphoria hijacked his brain.

He fell into a daze… falling.. falling… once more into sleep….

He found himself standing in a blinding, sterile white expanse. There was nothing here. No walls. No ceiling. No horizon. Just Kyle, standing in the light, and the dark silhouette waiting before him.

He kept his eyes fixed on the polished floor. His reflection stared back. His security guard uniform was immaculate, stripped of mud, blood, sweat, and exhaustion. This was what he was supposed to be. A guardian. A protector. An unbroken sentinel.

This dreamspace was different. Honest.

Kyle swallowed. He didn't want to look up at the figure standing in the blaring light. The figure reached toward him. A pale hand. Long black claws.

Kyle's gaze followed it only as far as the chest, and stopped. A golden serpent rested against the black-and-white robes. His breath caught. He knew that necklace. He had seen it around the mummified nun. The symbol of the Children of Apophis. But this wasn't the little golden brooch the Children wore. This was larger. A ceremonial necklace. Roped gold, heavy enough to look like an emblem of rank. A much higher rank.

Kyle's stomach tightened. Why was that around this person's neck?

He still didn't look up. Every instinct he had screamed at him to run. Run now. But he didn’t.

The figure's fingers slid easily between his, silky and graceful. Where their palms met, blood welled up. Kyle flinched at the sensation. It was a covenant. A sacred bond sealed in blood.

Vile. Wrong. Permanent.

Then he smelled it. Clove. Heavy. Sweet. Suffocating. He felt dizzy.

The other clawed hand caught his chin. Slowly, gently, it tilted his face upward. Kyle braced himself. Dark robes. Regal posture. Terrible authority. And that smug, predatory confidence. He knew exactly who he was going to see. But when he looked up, it wasn’t MasterGin. It was Jihoon, his strange serpentine eyes deeply amused, his lips curving into a mischievous grin.

“Boo.”

Kyle gasped, his eyes flying open as he yanked his bleeding hand back.

“Something about you is very, very wrong,” he yelped at the comatose figure on the ground, cradling his wounded hand against his chest. “Not cool! Not cool at all!”

Soil rained down from the ceiling.

He didn’t like this. Not one bit.

At least Jihoon had been fed, and would shut up now. Who knows how long MasterGin had kept him locked up and neglected. Once they got out of the Zone, his friend could get proper medical care.

Then came the sound. A horrible, wet choking from deep in Jihoon's chest.

Kyle looked down in horror.

Black, viscous fluid bubbled up from Jihoon’s throat. His chest heaved violently as he fought for air. His skin turned a mottled grey, the dark hollows under his eyes bruising into deep purple.

“Shit!”

Training took over. Kyle rolled Jihoon onto his side, supporting his head as another surge of black fluid spilled from his mouth. Don't panic.

A thick splatter struck the mud. Then another. Far too much. Far more than the few drops of blood Kyle had given him.

What the hell had he done?

Finally, the heaving stopped. Jihoon lay limp in the dirt.

“Hungry… So hungry…”

Kyle let out a shaky groan and pulled off his outer shirt to wipe the black sludge from his friend’s face.

“Don't you dare," he said quietly. "Don't you dare die on me after all the bullshit we all went through to get you out of here. Do you hear me? Man up.”

A sharp burning sensation pulsed in his hand. Thin violet veins were creeping up his forearm from the bite mark.

Infection.

His skin prickled with an icy, metallic heat, like frozen needles marching beneath his flesh. Kyle’s breath hitched, his heart hammering against his ribs in a full-blown panic. His vision swirled at the edges. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his palm flat against the damp soil to anchor himself, but the heat surged straight up his neck and into his skull.

When he forced his eyes open, the pitch black of the crawlspace was gone.

The dark had bled into a faint, violet-tinted luminescence. The world was rendered in eerie thermal contrast. Every crack in the freezing masonry radiated a dull violet hue, while the heat pulsing from the overhead pipes stood out in sharp, unnatural focus. Like a viper tracking prey in the dark, he could see the very temperature of the room.

“What the…?”

He rubbed his eyes, then opened them again. The tunnel still glowing.

A familiar voice echoed through his mind. Because, of course it did.

"Still hungry…”

On him, Jihoon:

Hair: RavenBell - Persephone Hair, basics [M][mesh](Engine Room)(350L)

Hair emissive: RavenBell - Persephone Hair, emissive overlay [M][mesh](Engine Room)(200L)

Tattoo: Nuuna - EVI Metallic EVOX 2K tint [BOM](Engine Room)(300L)
Makeup: Rubedo - Blanche, 12 [BOM](Camp Syndicate)(290L)

Outfit: SOMNIUM - Aether Magus set, black, - Legacy M/A[mesh](Engine Room)(850L)

Boots: MEMENTO - NEO. Boots V2 [LEGACY M] [mesh]

Crown: UNA - Ruise crown Silver [mesh]

Claws: Subject Thirteen - Solstice Set - LegacyA [mesh]

Snake Necklace: SIGMA Minos necklace [mesh]

Skin: outernaked - #evox - juhoon skin [NF: natural] - wb [BOM]

Eyes: Poetic Colors - Jaded Eyes - Jade [BOM]

Head, bloody tattoos: LeLUTKA - Kane Evolution [mesh](3990L)

Body: TheShops - [BODY] Athletic Meshbody (Legacy)(m) (1.7.1) [mesh](5000L)

On him, Kyle:

Shirt: ARCHIVEFACTION - EIGENGRAU Shirt, white, LegacyM [mesh](Engine Room)(350L)

Shoes: ARCHIVEFACTION - EIGENGRAU Oxfords, black, LegacyM [mesh](Engine Room)(350L)

Pants: ARCHIVEFACTION - EIGENGRAU Pants, black, LegacyM [mesh](Engine Room)350L)

Tattoo: Izzie's Face & Body Blood & Wounds (199L)

Hair: TRASH Lucifer w/o Horns V1 - Rainbow pack [mesh](299L)

Eyes: Mana Jelly Eyes,  Clear [BOM] (Midnight Order)(399L)

Skin: MUDSKIN Hajimu, C, Brow, WINTER(gacha)(The Arcade)(75L)

Glasses: SOLE SA, Glasses Penta CP, Black [mesh](339L)

Head, bloody tattoos: LeLUTKA - Kane Evolution [mesh](3990L)

Body: TheShops [BODY] Athletic Meshbody (Legacy)(m) (1.7.1) [mesh](5000L)

Setting:

Window: Eclectica - Steampunk Round Windows [mesh](Engine Room)(350L)

Pipes: SIGNΛ - Modular Pipes Kit [mesh](Engine Room)(900L)

BONUS IMAGES: inworld raw shots,  midday sky, default camera: