Midnight Order: The Hunt (Escape from Club Apophis, 13)

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STORYLINE: The humid air in Lisa Liemawr's apartment smelled of desperation and two-day-old noodles. She didn't have the energy to fight the funk, only to shove the carton toward Happy, the DinoDog chomping with a gusto that made the sad leftovers sound like gourmet. Loyal bio-constructs like DinoDog don’t complain. Her own complaints were scattered across the room, a silent collection of failures.

By the window, the light snagged on a frame: a hospital snapshot. A girl bandaged in gauze, bruises blooming under tape. A brand-new cyborg arm, not a replacement but a monument, wired to a drip. A baby DinoDog curled in her lap. That girl's fearless grin wasn't just a smile, it was the triumphant sneer of someone who'd just been reforged in wreckage. That girl smiled like she’d beaten the world. Lisa now… wore a different smile. The kind you put on so no one sees the cracks.

She spun her chair toward the corner, the worn casters groaning on the floorboards. Seven avatars stood in neat rows, a catacomb of her former fame. Their chrome limbs, once polished to a dazzling, poreless sheen, were now dulled. Their led lights, meant to glow like life-affirming halos, blinked like faint heart monitors. Each avatar was a flawless, dazzling version of herself, -- the face the world knew. But the real Lisa sat here, a woman with a plain face and a body that was more wire than flesh, commanding her bot army from the safety of her apartment.

Across the room, her halophone pulsed a fever-hot red. It wasn't just collection notices; it was a digital scream. Court summons, lawyers circling like vultures, all threatening the one thing she needed to survive: the power to run her army of avatars and drones. Her once-celebrated swarm was now an expensive liability, a tomb she couldn't afford to maintain.

And looking very much like a prop torn from a crime drama, was an evidence board sagging with glossy faces and glossy lies. At the center: Dr. Ginevra. White lab coat, immaculate. The miracle sculptor, promising to turn scars into perfection, disasters into pageant winners. Surrounding him, a constellation of his work: presidents with camera-ready jaws, idols with skin too flawless for pores, athletes carved like marble.

And then ...Yoon Jihoon.

On the left: a smudged “before,” a boy who looked like the air had given up noticing him. On the right: an “after” so dazzling the lens adored him. Taller, sharper, radiant with effortless charm. Kyra the cheerleader clung to him in the photo, lips pressed against his cheek while cameras gasped with delight.

And below that: Jihoon engulfed mid-combustion. A human torch, running like a stuntman through flames.

Across it all, Lisa’s hand had scrawled one word in fat red marker: SUS.

The phone buzzed. Caller ID: GIN AESTHETICA™

Lisa let it ring twice, then scooped it up. “Liemawr here. If this is about my extended warranty, you’re already too late—I expired years ago.”

“Neither of us desires this call,” came a silken, disdainful purr. The voice dripped condescension, velvet lined with razors. “So let us keep it mercifully brief. Your reach is… adequate. Let’s put it to proper use. Yoon Jihoon. Ruin him.”

Lisa’s tracer program flickered awake on instinct. A halo of code shimmered across her smart lens. She leaned back, grin tugging at her lips, a bloodhound catching scent.

“Ohhh, really? The poor guy spontaneously combusts in the middle of his debut glory, and you want me to kick him while he’s—what?—medium rare?”

“Not kick, my dear.” Gin’s tone slipped lower, decadent, theatrical. “Discredit.”

A hologram bloomed across Lisa’s vision, chasing the call.

“Expose him as a fraud. A slow, delicious public execution. You know the menu. The standard ingredients: DNA hacking, black-market augments… a perfect recipe for expulsion and ostracism. Your cheerleader accomplice can assist as an eyewitness to his shameful pursuit for fame at any cost.”

The tracer pulsed. Once. Twice. Code flared like heat-lightning across her digital vision, and for a moment, her grin faltered. The signal wasn't bouncing off some anonymous offshore server farm. The signal drove straight down, punching through the city's foundations like a nail into bone, to a place no one was supposed to be. One hundred fifty meters beneath the earth, into the festering heart of the Forbidden Zone. A place of rumor and rot, where the air itself was a whisper of plague. This wasn't arrogance; it was a declaration. Gin wasn't a surgeon, he was a god ruling an underworld. Lisa's finger flew to her console, saving the trace with a single, furious tap.

“Odd obsession, Doctor," she licked her lips, eyes narrowing. "You’re the world’s most fabulous scalpel-slinger, and you pick a broke kid as your pet project? Trademarked his body like a sneaker brand—‘Lathandro™,’ mole on the ass and all. And then, poof, up he goes in flames the moment the cameras adored him. Suspicious doesn’t even cover it.”

A pause. Then a low, rolling laugh oozed through the line, theatrical and venomous. “Truth is fragile, Miss Lisa Lies More." he chuckled, satisfied with his little joke. "Outrageous lies, however, they’re what gets you eyeballs. Now, be a darling and do as instructed, if you want the lawsuit to disappear.”

Click.

The silence was absolute. She exhaled slowly and swiveled toward the board. Jihoon’s face stared back at her through the flames.

For years, this apartment had been her command center, her sanctuary, her cocoon. The world knew the flawless Lisa, the avatar she broadcast, never the one who sat in a creaking chair. But this wasn't a game she could win from a distance. She grabbed her old visor, scarred and scratched, buckled on the belt with her forgotten blade.

Happy’s tail thumped against the wall, sensing her rising pulse.

The Forbidden Zone shimmered on the horizon, its neon bleeding red like a wound that refused to close. For the first time in years, she was going out into the field, putting the real Lisa at risk. And she was not afraid.

She patted Happy’s head, her grin wide and defiant. “Let’s go get him.”

I hope you guys are loving the ongoing story and coolness from the overwhelmingly awesome Midnight Order round, ending soon. The big feature here is the brilliant Desert Nomad avatar by Logo. They are known for thier mesh heads, but this a complete avatar and I am loving it! The head is basic, but if you own any of the Logo hud and addons you can upload those into this avatar. The shape is editable, and clothing textures have a hud or colors to pick from in a desert style palette. I hope there are more awesome compelete avatars in the future by Logo!   Adding unsettling look, is the black Mortuvia Eyes by Hellbourne.   ...How about that DinoDog! He is an adorable animesh with multiple animation built into him. You get a fatpack to change his textures, or buy a single color.   ...Lisa's weapon another gorgeous Sword by FOE. This set comes with long sword and dagger. Includes texture hud to customize its look, and has all the good stuff programed into it, not just drawing and sheathing, but many poses for the sword too.   ...The Vintage Billboard by Dirty Rat is so much fun. It has a retro vibe that works well for Fallout like wastelands as well as retro 50s Americana. It includes lighting projectors and built in reflection probe for PBR textures, but also includes a non PBR version.

On her, Lisa Liemawr:

Complete Avatar: LOGO Desert Nomad [mesh](Midnight Order)(1999L)

Weapons: FOE x Decree Dagger, Dominion Longsword & Sheath [mesh](Midnight Order)(699L)

Eyes: Hellbourne Mortuvia Eyes, White (NoPupil)[BOM](Midnight Order)(299L)

Pose: yzk mens pose 4 hero1

Setting:

Billboard: Dirty Rat Vintage Billboard w/probe [PBR][mesh](Midnight Order)(375L)

Pet: Aardvark Wyrmlings Animesh - Earth Claw [animesh](Midnight Order)(399L)

Location:

MOTHERLAND // Social Hangout + Sandbox

BONUS IMAGES: inworld raw shots, hi-res, midday sky : Nomad avatar shown without helmet.