Engine Room: The Museum of Catastrophes (Escape from Club Apophis, 23)

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STORYLINE: Holo-posters bloomed across the Forbidden Zone like invasive flowers of propaganda:

WELCOME HOME, PRINCE LATHANDRO.

THE BOY WHO BURNED AND LIVED.

Each one showed the same impossible boy, chin lifted, skin radiant, uniform immaculate, -- a messiah forged from vanity and marketing code. They covered the ruins wall to wall, their light spilling into puddles of rust-red water.

Then the light began to die.

A storm of shadows moved through the alley, swallowing sound as it came. The Ruler of the Night walked at its heart, displeasure made flesh. Every poster he passed convulsed, flickered, and went dark, as if ashamed to exist beneath his gaze.

Lucien’s side project had metastasized into blasphemy.

It was time to end it.

The Ruler descended the spiral of basalt stairs beneath Club Apophis, each step a deeper fall into Lucien’s obsession. The air grew colder, heavy with incense, static, and something older than both. He found him, of course, in the heart of his latest folly: "The Museum of Catastrophes."

The chamber was circular and immense, built from polished obsidian that drank the light. Power streaked through the seams of the floor, humming with a parasitic energy the Ruler found abhorrent.

At its center, lay the museum’s newest exhibit: Yoon Jihoon.

The comatose student was draped in military green, his body arranged like a saint prepared for resurrection. Silver IV lines pulsed with blood, and great holographic calamities flickered around him in worshipful orbit: the Library of Alexandria on fire, Atlantis drowning below the waves, dinosaurs screaming as the sky split open.

Lucien knelt beside him, cradling Jihoon’s limp body in a grotesque parody of the Pietà: a madonna made of silk and mania. His voice trembled through wet laughter. Mascara bled down his cheeks like spilled ink.

"He's beautiful, isn't he?"

The Ruler regarded him for a long, weighted silence, molten gold eyes steady as judgment.

"I assisted in this body's recovery as a mercy, Lucien, so the child could safely pass with dignity. What happened to free will? He did not choose you. He did not consent to be exhibited like this."

MasterGin suddenly lurched to his feet, screaming, "HE CRIED FOR HIS MOMMY TO SAVE HIM FROM THOSE INCOMPETENT HUMAN BUTCHERS!" His voice cracked. He shook with outrage, tears of genuine grief and fury rolling down his face. "They were going to cut him up… Butcher my darling Lathandro like an animal!"

The Ruler’s expression barely shifted. “Lies,” he said softly. “Your ego could not bear to see your creation in the hands of lesser beings.”

Lucien’s laughter curdled into a sneer. “You know nothing. He’s special. It’s right in front of your nose and you’re too blind—too jealous—to see it!”

He gestured wildly toward the boy. "When was the last time you saw a fledgling burned by the sun and live?"

The Ruler froze. His gaze drifted to the youth on the chaise. The burn scars were gone. A new, chilling thought raced through him.

Was there anyone still left inside?

His golden eyes closed; a deep breath drew in like a storm contained. He reached out with his will, ancient and absolute.

“Show me,” he commanded. The chamber dissolved.

He found himself standing in a ruined stadium, bleachers collapsed in spectral silence, ash drifting like red snow through a dead wind.

On the pitcher’s mound stood Jihoon—rumpled hoodie, scorched sneakers, the human remnant. His voice cracked the silence.

“He thinks I called for him. Did you? Did you deliver us to that MONSTER?!”

Across the field, his reflection stood on home plate: Lathandro, long white bangs falling from under his cap, striking in a crisp red uniform.

“Relax, bookworm,” Lathandro scoffed. “MasterGin would rather cut off his own limbs than hurt us. You’re such a timid wuss. Someone needed to save us, and it wasn’t going to be your inept girlfriend. She only knows how to fix machines.”

“Take that back!” Jihoon’s fists clenched. “Minjo was trying to save me!”

Lathandro laughed, low and cruel. “Her bad choices lit us on fire, idiot.” He tossed a baseball into the air and struck it lazily. It arced upward, burning like a flare as it vanished into the smoky distance. “The monsters are the only ones who can save us. Stop pretending you’re human. We don’t belong with them anymore. That life ended in flames. You died. I’m the one keeping us alive.”

“Bullshit! I’m not the one who got us killed!” Jihoon hurled a chunk of broken cement. “I’m not the one allergic to sunlight!”

Lathandro easily dodged, smacking the rock with his bat, sending it out of the stadium. For an instant, a forked tongue flicked from his mouth.

Jihoon staggered back, horror dawning. His fingers brushed his own lips, as if afraid to find the same split hiding there. No. The thing wearing his face wasn't him.

The Ruler’s mind recoiled, not in fear, but in clarity, and the faint taste of something ancient and terrible. He had seen the tongue. This was no fledgling. It was an infestation.

“You saw him, didn't you?” Lucien’s plea cracked the silence.

The Ruler’s senses snapped back to the chamber. Lucien’s voice was too close, wet, trembling, desperate.

“Please… you have to save him.” His tone wavered between command and prayer. “The old rite... the Opening of the Mouth. Do it for me. For us.”

The Ruler regarded him in silence. Lucien’s perfect white hair was tangled, his gossamer sheath smeared with blood from a cut on his wrist. He looked ancient now, stripped of glamour, a frightened creature clinging to his dying art. The Ruler sighed, and placed a gentle hand on Gin’s quivering shoulder.

“He lives,” he said softly. “But he is not alone.”

As he spoke, the lights dimmed. The floor began to pulse with that dull, parasitic rhythm. The light from the holograms bent toward the chaise, devoured by an unseen gravity. The boy’s body suddenly arched, a silent scream as the dark energy surged.

The Ruler's eyes flared gold. The vessel moved.

“Lucien,” he gasped, “you are meddling with forces you do not understand." He raced to the main outlet and yanked the plug free. The chamber plunged into absolute darkness, the only sound the sudden, choking sobs of MasterGin.

"Stop this foolishness!" the Ruler bellowed. "Stop trying to revive him with this cursed technology." He stepped closer, the air tightening around them. “I will perform the ritual in one week. I will awaken him, -- on one condition.”

“Anything,” Gin whispered in the dark.

“You will uphold your own sacred creed of free will,” the Ruler said. “If he asks to leave… you will let him.”

Lucien laughed lightly, too quickly. “Of course,” he breathed while his head, almost imperceptibly, shook no.

Jihoon’s chest rose once in a shallow breath, his eyelids fluttering open before sinking again into darkness.

Neither of them saw it....

Its the last days for this round of the Engine Room. So many great items, I wish I could have worked in more to show. For this post, I was inspired by the PFC Serpens furniture. It worked perfectly for my story idea. The chaise is wonderfully made with built in poses, and PBR texture hud options to change the look. it includes a floor lamp and incense burner. ...Jihoon is wearing the Maxwell outfit by ONEDAY. This look includes the boots built right in. ...from About Love, I used the Cap, it just worked great with the military look. It has hair with heart shape bang and cap rigged, or separate, and texture hud. ...The Silvanus hair by Sinktiklia is gorgeous and has fits for men and women. Plus the bangs are unrigged so you can move them around. I ended yo using just the bangs, and turned them askew since they were unrigged. It helped with my character pose so much. ... From Botanical is the Candle Clutter set. These candles well made and already in placement for fast decorating. Perfect for halloween, or romance. I can't get over how convincing that candle flame is. Well done.

For my ambitious ongoing story, threaded through multiple events, if I'm able to keep going, the next section will venture into new territory as the rescue team enters the Zone. We'll see how it goes. Thanks for all the love and encouragement.

On him, Jihoon:

Outfit: ONEDAYs MAXWELL OUTFIT-LEGACY, green [mesh](Engine Room)(338L)

Cap: About Love AL. Bold Military Cap - Unrigged [mesh](Engine Room)(300L)

Bangs: Sintiklia Hair Silvanus, Black&White [mesh](Engine Room)(350L)

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

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

Pose: Del May Dead to the world (edited)

Setting:

Furniture: Pucca Firecaster Creations PFC~Serpens furniture set [mesh](Engine Room)(600L)

Candles: Botanical Candle Clutter, green [mesh](Engine Room)(299L)

Set: Spires Society Chamber Of The Wicked (SKYBOX) [mesh]

BONUS IMAGES: inworld raw shot, hi-res, midday sky.

Engine Room, Androgyny Event, Camp Syndicate: Plague (Escape from Club Apophis, 22)

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STORYLINE:  “So they’re vampires,” Plague said flatly, breaking the silence before anyone could romanticize it. “Ancient, ridiculously dramatic vampires who decided to cosplay as mob bosses. Great story pitch. It’s like 'The Godfather' meets 'Interview with the Vampire.' Coppola would weep. Can we get back to the part where we save our friend?”

The hologram of the speakeasy collapsed in a shower of static, leaving behind the coppery whiff of spilled blood and the phantom scent of gunsmoke in the air. The workshop fell silent again, the gentle ticking of Minjo’s brass contraptions marking time while everyone ignored him.

Ghost’s hands were a blur, cross-referencing Prohibition-era mob hierarchies with everything he could scrape from the net about Monstrum. Minjo, her back to everyone, was already sketching a rescue plan on a nearby whiteboard. Echo sat cross-legged on the floor beside the Black Snakeskin Box, a tangle of wires and circuit boards spread around her as she coaxed its strange power core to life.

Plague stretched, cracked his neck, and muttered, "Okay, I'll just be over here in my corner. Quietly creating a miracle cure for a biological horror, like I’m Alexander Fleming. No biggie. Don't mind me."

No one did.

He snatched the vial of claws, and the tube containing strands of Jihoon’s old hair from the workbench. “I’m starting the analysis. Yell if the time machine spits out Al Capone’s ghost.”

His corner of the workshop looked like a cybernetic parasite grafted onto an antique heart: chrome instruments threaded through brass skeletons, his bioreactors blinking among Minjo’s clockwork arms. His parents paid her obscene rent for the privilege, -- hoping her discipline might rub off on their prodigal heir. They saw Minjo as a future leader, a sound investment. Plague just saw her as the only person unimpressed by how big his inheritance would be.

He laid out the samples. The first: a few black strands from the paper crane —Jihoon before Lathandro. The control. The second: an obsidian claw clipped from a bandaged hand in the hospital—the mutation. He whistled softly. “From origami to armageddon. Let’s see what you’re made of, buddy.”

A flicker of memory cut the grin short. Guilt churned in his stomach. He remembered leaning against the lockers, voice dripping with practiced disdain as the new, beautiful Jihoon walked by. "Stupid femboy," he’d said, too loud, too easy. "Bet he hacked his DNA."

The words tasted like poison now, because they were a lie meant to hide a truth. The real criminal biohacker of Jae Won University was him. He was the one obsessed with gene-hacking. For months he’d been running back-alley CRISPR protocols on himself, trying to code sharper cheekbones, a clearer complexion, anything for an edge in the cutthroat world of biotech grants. But his body had fought back, rejecting it all: rashes, migraines, a week shaking with fever. He had failed. He built a containment suit to keep the evidence and the shame sealed away.

So when Jihoon emerged from Club Apophis remade, and radiant, Plague’s envy had been swift and vicious. He’d projected his own failure onto Jihoon, painting him as a cheater. He’d pushed his friend away right when Jihoon needed him most, and that path ended at the stadium with Jihoon screaming, engulfed in fire.

This was penance. 

He would find a cure. A cure for Jihoon first, but maybe a cure for himself, too. He’d save his friend, fix his own flawed biohack, and be hailed as the man who finally conquered DNA-rewrite rejection. He allowed the daydream to flicker, his speech accepting the Nobel Prize as cameras flashed. He grinned at the thought.

“Science first. Glory later,” he told the sequencer. “You and me, let’s make history."

The sequencer hummed to life, running a full genomic sequence. The results for the control sample were clean. Unremarkable. Perfectly boringly human. He saved the file, fed a sliver of the obsidian claw into the machine, and waited. Then repeated the process.

Hours bled into a blur. The distant chatter about safe zones and infiltration routes faded into white noise. By the time the first hints of dawn stained the workshop’s high windows, he was staring at the screen, rubbing his eyes, his mind refusing to process what the data said.

Finally, he pushed back from his station, his chair groaning in the quiet. “Uh, guys?”

His voice was strained. Minjo turned from the whiteboard, her marker frozen mid-sentence.

“I’ve got the results,” Plague said, running a hand through his hair. “There’s no difference.”

“What do you mean, no difference?” Minjo demanded, marching over.

“I mean before and after—identical. No viral markers, no synthetic code, no biohack signature. Either the universe is pranking me, or Jihoon’s DNA is the same old boring model.” He held up a finger. “And before you say contamination, I ran it six times.”

Minjo crossed her arms. “That’s illogical. We saw the claws. Your process is flawed. Do it again.”

“Six times, Minjo. Seven if you count the one where I forgot to breathe.” He sighed, dramatic. “My methodology is sound. The equipment is calibrated perfectly. The data is the data. Maybe you should accept that instead of assuming I’m an idiot!”

“I’m not calling you an idiot! I’m saying the result is impossible. There must be an error in the process.”

Before the argument could catch fire, a soft chime interrupted. Ghost lifted his gloved hands, holographic text drifting in a calm blue light above them. A simple question floated in the air: "Did you test the mitochondrial DNA?"

Plague froze.

Mitochondrial DNA, -- the power source of every living cell. He hadn’t even considered it.

He shot Ghost a grudging look. “Oh sure, Hologram Hands gets the win." He shook his head and muttered, "Sheeze, why is he always like that?"

He turned back to his console, frustration replaced by focus. An hour later, as the new analysis populated the screen, his jaw went slack. Half of Jihoon’s cells looked normal—powered by the same messy mitochondria as everyone else’s. The rest were something else entirely. His scanners couldn’t classify the energy source; the instruments simply read it as undefined.

The data made his blood run cold. “What the hell are you, Jihoon?”

The others gathered around as he stumbled back, his heart hammering against the metal ribs of his suit.

“What? What is it?” Minjo asked, her voice sharp with alarm.

“I found something alright. This isn't a bio-hack,” Plague breathed, his voice trembling with awe and terror. He pointed a shaking finger at the cellular map. “Jihoon isn’t being rewritten or infected. He’s a chimera. Half human… half something that doesn’t match any known terrestrial bio-signature. Two systems running in one body, and it looks like one of them wants the stage all to itself.”

A heavy silence settled over the workshop, the machines ticking like distant clocks.

Echo’s voice, quiet but certain, broke it. “Then we’d better hurry.”

Plague looked back at the screen, the dueling biological signals flickering like rival heartbeats. His voice came out soft, almost a joke. “Well,” he said, “guess we finally proved 'Meteor Strike' really is out of this world.”

No one laughed. 

The glow from the data deepened, and for a breath, it felt as though the thing inside Jihoon was staring back.

Halloween Season is upon us. But as you know, dear readers, Halloween is everyday on BishieStyleSL. lol.  I was so lucky to have items from three events perfectly suited for our handsome but flawed boy Plague.   ...From the brand new event Camp Syndicate, (which inspired by cabin-in-the-woods slasher horror movies), is the coolest icky scar wound material effect I have ever seen in SL, -- Decay by Cubic Cherry. It's a BOM tattoo layer with 3 layers of bom plus materials effect for EVO X mesh heads. You can adjust the layers to best suit your skintone for max effect. Using well positioned face lights can enhance the effect, I used red and cyan.   ...From the Engine Room is the gorgeous SOMNIUM Automaton MK2 mesh body, with a, outer frame and skeletal inner frame. The PBR materials are excellent and it poses well. It comes in 6 different texture styles. I used the black and red Enforcers for this image. Just wonderful.  ... From the Androgyny Event is the Maledictus Lacrimosa BOM makeup style that worked great on my male EvoX mesh head! I love the shadow below the eye, and upper lid with a metallic loud color.  Also at AE is the fun Prismo Aura attachment doubling as DNA molecules in my image. The hovering rocks move, some float, some spin in place. It comes with a texture hud for 8 colors and 7 glow colors.   ...In the background, I used the Ambice Cyber "Nova'' Station, but in my final image, you can barely tell it's still. Still, I wanted to include it and show you what it looks like below in the raw shots. The set is mod, so you can move pieces around or scale it up or down.=.

On him, Plague:

Scar: Cubic Cherry Decay [BOM, Materials](Camp Syndicate)(275L)

Body: SOMNIUM Automaton, Enforcer [mesh](Engine Room)(950L)

Makeup: {maledictus} Lacrimosa, red [BOM] (Androgyny Event)(199L)

Aura: TERIYAKI Prismo [mesh] (Androgyny Event)(499L)

Hair: Dura U122 -A: Men's [mesh]

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

Setting:

Set: Ambice Cyber "Nova'' Station [mesh]

BONUS IMAGES: inworld raw shot, hi-res, midday sky. Scar shown at midnight with local lights for materials effect.

Engine Room: Birth of Monstrum (Escape from Club Apophis 21)

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STORYLINE: The brass ring hissed to life, gears grinding as the hologram burst into shape, projecting the scene into the center of the workshop. The view was from a pocket of time thick with the grime of the industrial age. Gaslights hissed, casting a sickly yellow glow on wet cobblestones. They weren’t watching history. They were trespassing in it.

ARCHIVAL RECORDING — CHICAGO, FEBRUARY 14, 1929

The speakeasy pulsed with brass and gun oil, jazz horns bleeding through the haze of cigarette smoke. Beyond the bar’s false wall, men in pinstripes and fedoras polished Tommy guns, their voices sharp with the kind of bravado born from knowing the law itself had abandoned this city.

At the far end of the room, seated as though on twin thrones, were two figures no gangster would dare disturb.

The Ruler leaned on his cane, the cut of his coat immaculate, his features marbled in the elegance of old courts. He looked out over the tables with the disdain of a monarch forced to sit among peasants. His deep voice was velvet over steel when he spoke:

“Since the War, crowns topple like dominos. Kings strangled by parliaments. Czars executed by mobs. Maximilian Spyder whispers his poison into the ears of the newborn of our kind, turning subjects into citizens.” He spat the word like a curse. “A grotesque reversal of the natural order.”

Beside him, lounging with insolent ease, MasterGin twirled the stem of a coupe glass between long fingers. His smile was sharp, feline, a smear of lacquered sin under the low light.

“Oh, listen to you,” Gin purred. “The last Emperor of Shadows, pouting because the world doesn’t curtsey with quite the same flourish. Monarchies fall, darling, because velvet chains go out of fashion. People want jazz, motorcars that roar like beasts, liquor brewed in bathtubs filthy enough to make them forget they’re mortal." He lifted his glass. "And I, for one, adore it."

The Ruler’s eyes narrowed. “Industry belches smoke. It pollutes everything. Filth. Men who sit on factory thrones are lords unfit even to polish my boots. And you—” he leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl, “why do I suffer you, jester? Why should I not unmake you here and now?”

Gin’s laughter was silk on a knife’s edge. He leaned closer, brushing his hand, featherlight, against the Ruler’s chest, daring the strike.

“Because, my King,” he whispered, eyes gleaming with decadent amusement, “without me, your immaculate mausoleum of a world is unbearably dull. Admit it, Horemheb. You crave my disorder. My sin. My razzle-dazzle.”

The Ruler stiffened, outraged by the touch, his voice carrying like a curse through the smoky air. “You dare defile my righteous presence with your corruption, in a public house? I should kill you for it.”

Gin only tilted his head, his grin curling like smoke. “Tell me again, my King, how wicked I am. Say it slowly this time.”

The Ruler’s nostrils flared. “Pervert. Worshipper of Apophis.”

“And you,” Gin countered, purring the words, “are the greater pervert. Because nothing excites you more than watching purity rot.” The tension between them was electric, sharper than the knives hidden in the gangsters’ coats. Gin leaned in closer still, his voice velvet and venom. “Even your goddess Ma’at, keeper of order, never demanded the destruction of chaos, -- only its balance. That’s why you don’t kill me, my King. Because together,” his hand traced the Ruler’s arm, insolent and intimate, “we are balance.”

The Ruler’s lips parted, perhaps in denial, perhaps in warning, when the world dissolved into a percussive nightmare of gunfire.

Bullets, like angry iron hornets, tore through the opulent room as glass rained like diamonds. In the smoky haze, men screamed, their fine suits blossoming with crimson. The Ruler staggered, not from the force, but from the sheer insult as hot metal ripped through his side. His face, a hardened mask of granite, twisted not with pain, but with the divine and absolute outrage of a god whose temple has been defiled by insects.

From the shadows of the victorious side, a single, portly figure in a fine suit watched his men execute the last of their rivals, a cigar clenched in his teeth. He was the architect of the carnage. The Ruler’s incandescent gaze fell upon him.

In the space between heartbeats, the immortal was upon him, his hand gripping the man’s throat, lifting his considerable weight effortlessly off the ground. The cigar dropped, showering embers on the floor. The gangster's psychotic glee vanished, his eyes bulging with a terror. He stared at the bullet holes in his captor's chest, at the man who should be dead but wasn't.

The Ruler spat curses in the tongue of Pharaohs, each syllable an avalanche of titles and divine rights, before his voice dropped to a whisper that cut through the cacophony. "You command with fear and coin. An empire of grime."

"Wait, darling," MasterGin cooed, gliding to their side with an artist's appreciation. He circled the pair, tapping a long finger against his chin. "Don't smash the new toy. He's an absolute couture specimen of the age. All brutal ambition and vulgar appetites. Like a tailored suit cut from filth." He leaned in, sniffing the air around the gangster. "He absolutely reeks of it. Greed. A vulgar, but undeniably powerful, perfume. We could learn from this one.”

The Ruler’s grip loosened, and he dropped the man. The mob boss collapsed in a heap, coughing and rubbing his throat before pushing himself to his feet.

"Name’s Capone," he coughed, straightening his tie, his fear already being masked by opportunism. "You two aren't from Chicago, but I know power when I see it. Maybe we can do business."

The Ruler sneered, a look of profound disgust. He turned his back on the mortal, a gesture of ultimate dismissal. He no longer saw a man, but a lesson. His gaze swept across the carnage, and for the first time, he truly saw it. This was not chaos. It was a hostile takeover.

The billowing smoke, tainted by the coppery reek of blood, was the new incense. The staccato rhythm of a fallen pocket watch, ticking its last seconds on the floor, was the new hymn. He looked at the dead men, not as warriors, but as assets, expended. His eyes fell upon the Tommy gun, its polished wood and blued steel a marvel of mechanical death. Beside it lay a fallen briefcase, burst open to reveal stacks of money, - prayers to a new, paper god.

This was the new order. An empire not of faith and bloodlines, but of gears, capital, and mass-produced violence. His divine right was a useless relic here.

"He commanded them with this," The Ruler said, his voice a low rumble. He nudged the machine gun with his foot. "And paid them with worthless paper." He gestured toward at the cash. "A throne of bullets and false wealth. While we were gods. That man…” he gestured dismissively toward Capone, “…he does not demand worship. He buys it. He doesn't need a crown. He doesn't even need gold. He has paper men believe is worth dying for.”

"Savage, yet it has a certain… allure," MasterGin said, gliding to his side. "Don't you find mortal delusions fascinating?"

The Ruler was silent for a long moment, the chaos of the scene reflected in his ancient eyes. Then, he smiled. It was a chilling sight, devoid of all warmth, the expression of a predator discovering a richer hunting ground.

"You were right, Lucien," he said, his voice ringing with the cold clarity of a funeral bell.

He knelt, not in reverence, but in appraisal, and picked up a single, blood-spattered dollar bill. As he turned it over, his gaze fell upon the pyramid on its reverse. A sneer twisted his lips.

“They dare inscribe my tomb upon their paper and call it theirs.” With a contemptuous rip, he tore the bill in half, shredding the All-Seeing Eye from the pyramid.

"Mortals never change, only what they value does," he said, his voice ringing with cold clarity. "We will not command armies, but corporations. Our new priests will be their politicians, their CEOs, their bankers. We will amass wealth beyond the dreams of Pharaohs and control their world from the shadows."

He stood, crumbling the blood-soaked shreds in his fist, his eyes burning with a new, terrible purpose. "We will build a syndicate on the foundation of their avarice."

He looked at Gin, his gaze alight with fire.

Gin’s smile sharpened, a blade curving upwards. “The serpent swallows the sun. A Mafia of Monsters.”

(Present Day, 2055)

The hologram flickered and died. The swirling vortex of Roman numerals in the brass ring collapsed into nothing, leaving only the sound of ticking gears in the sudden silence of the workshop.

Minjo, Echo, Ghost, and Plague stood frozen, their faces pale in the soft glow of the vacuum tubes.

They hadn't just found a major clue. They had just witnessed the birth of Monstrum.

I hope you all like this Art Deco themed travel to the past. Readers of my blog and this Apophis series got a treat this chapter, the scoop on the Ruler, MasterGin and Monstrum!  ....From the current Engine Room round, is a gorgeous suit and accessories from ArchiveFaction. I love the over the shoulder coat, I wore for half the year their other shoulder coat, it's so great to have a new style. You get what pieces you like, or buy the whole set. I used the Fatpack for Jacket to show some more retro warm colors. The brooch on the lapel is a gift from this round. It's mod, so I tinted it gold.   ...Over at Androgyny Event, are the Coffin Core Glasses by Phase. It's mod so you can scale the size for a perfect fit, and tint the frame and lenses.   ...MasterGin is wearing Priscilla Dress which comes with fits for Reborn-Burly Pecs-Mounds-V-tech-Waifu, and Legacy Athletic. The Dress is semi-transparent lace with corset. I dressed it up as a crossover between 1910s and 1920s.  ...The Swiss miss hairpins are ZAP hair 146 at Engine Room. It's mod so you can turn on masking, or tint.  ...From Guild is a wonderful neck corset that makes me think of a train grill. It's a fun look.   ...From AURO is the Ritzy Opera Cigarette holder. I love me a long steam cigarette holder, and let me pick clove cigarettes too! It has 4 AO animations.   ...From the Muses is lovely retro style BOM undergarment, The Alanguie Chemise. It's wonderfully made with nice texture details. It comes in either black or ivory.   ...From Cult are the Agatha Boots with a guillotine heel!  Twisted, and perfect for Halloween.   ...From Static is the Sultry Parasol of black satin and lace. Just wear it and it will trigger a pose animation.   ...From Duplexity is a table that worked perfectly for the Art Deco themed room, the Pathfinder's set with Table, stools, and Relic. It's PBR enabled and looks great with advanced lighting. I did something crazy and uses the Stools as Plant stands. They were mod, so I could scale them up or down and they matched the table perfectly!   ....The setting is unlike anything else in SL, a truly Art Deco style room with all the lux glitz too.  I added to the wall custom wall carving for the Sun and Apophis. I think it worked out pretty well.  .... (Yes, I spent a lot of time working on this chapter. With lots of new events are coming for Halloween, I will be very busy, so I might have to pause Apophis for a bit. I will do what I can!)

On him, The Ruler of the Night:

Jacket: Archivefaction Penumbra Blazer_Legacy M, fatpack [mesh](Engine Room)(1650L)

Tie: Archivefaction Penumbra Tie_Legacy M [mesh](Engine Room)(350L)

Pants: Archivefaction Penumbra Trousers_Black_Legacy M [mesh](Engine Room)(330L)

Cloak: Archivefaction Penumbra Cloak_Black_Unrigged [mesh](Engine Room)(550L)

Gloves: Archivefaction Penumbra Gloves_Legacy M_Slim Fingers [mesh](Engine Room)(550L)

Brooch: Archivefaction Penumbra Albert Chain_PBR [mesh](Engine Room)(Gift)

Shades: PHASE Coffin Core Glasses [mesh] (Androgyny Event)(250L)

Hat: CRYPTID Noir Fedora [mesh]

Staff: David Heather Ankh Staff [mesh]

Shoes: Deadwool Dandy shoes - non rigged - black/silver wingtip [mesh](360L)

Head: LeLUTKA CAMDEN 4.0 [mesh](3990L)

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

On him, MasterGin:

Outfit: BUFFY'S Priscilla Dress - Legacy M. Ath [mesh](Engine Room)(999L)

Hair: ZAO +146 Hair [mesh](Engine Room)(432L)

Collar: Gild legacy(m/A)  Neck corset_FATPACK [mesh](Engine Room)(185L)

Cigarette: AURO Ritzy Opera Cigarette - Without Smoke [mesh](Engine Room)(299L)

Underwear: The Muses - Alanguie Chemise - BOM - Inke [mesh](Engine Room)(250L)

Boots: CULT Agatha - Legacy Male  [mesh]

Parasol: Static Sultry Parasol {Nautilus} [mesh]

Gloves: Starchild Designs Flapper #5 Gloves [BOM]

Head: LeLUTKA CAMDEN 4.0 [mesh](3990L)

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

Setting:

Table, Globe, stools: Duplexity Pathfinder's Seat, Table, Relic [mesh](Engine Room)(399L)

Background: Dirty Rat Art Deco Lobby, Backdrop [mesh](495L)

Chairs: Architect Arcadia Armchair [mesh]

Glass, bottles: ISHIKU Dionae Gilded Crystal Glass set [mesh]

Leafy Palm: Soy Potted Traveler's Palm Tree [mesh](75L)

Hanging plant: Soy Super long Hanging Hedera [mesh](75L)

Ferns: Soy Voluminous Potted Ferns [mesh] (100L)

BONUS IMAGES: inworld raw shot, hi-res, midday sky. (Note: Undergarments shown)

Engine Room: The Alt Tech Mystery (Escape from Club Apophis, 20)

(click to enlarge)

STORYLINE: Minjo’s Workshop, 2055

“This thing is lying to me,” Minjo hissed, her fingers jabbing at keys as the monitor bled error codes in crimson. Lines of text scrolled, stuttered, then reassembled themselves into elegant nonsense. “Every time I think I’ve found a pattern, it shifts. Like the data doesn’t want to be read.”

She spun in her chair and pinned Echo with a sharp look. “You’re the retro-tech historian. Have you ever seen anything like this?”

The air in the workshop smelled of hot oil and static charge, a tang that clung to the back of the throat. Echo clutched her battered field kit and let her eyes wander. This wasn’t the gleaming, glass-paneled lab she had imagined. It was a cathedral of machines that refused to die.

Vacuum tubes pulsed like orange fireflies in glass bell jars. Cables thick as iron vines hung from the rafters. In the corner, a brass automaton stood half-finished, its exposed ribs of gears glinting like the fossil of some mechanical saint.

“I’d almost think you were an Old-Tech fan,” Echo murmured, her voice full of reverent awe. “This place feels… curated. Like a museum where all the exhibits still want to work.”

Minjo gave a short, dry laugh. “Not nostalgia. Discipline. Automata tell you when they break.” She held up Kyra’s smart chip like it was a splinter under her skin. “So. What do you see?”

Echo’s pulse quickened. This was her territory. She slipped on cotton gloves, plucked the chip with tweezers, and slotted it into her portable analyzer—a sleek, Y2K-era contraption bristling with adapters, its glowing cathode display and keys that clacked with tactile defiance.

Her fingers danced. Green phosphor text flickered to life. Her breath hitched. “I’m in.”

The team gathered. Ghost leaned forward, his silence radiating an intense curiosity. Plague hovered, impatience sharp as his grin. “Well?”

“There are two partitions,” Echo said, her voice taut with excitement. “The first is a routing file. It’s… a map.” She zoomed out. A lattice of underworld arteries branched beneath the Forbidden Zone. “Detailed. Marked with hazards, safe zones, and access points. A complete underground network.”

Plague let out a low whistle. “Imagine that. The safest way through the Zone is under it.”

But Echo’s finger lingered on the second file. “This one… it’s labeled as a Sensory Recording.”

Minjo’s head snapped up. “Impossible. We don’t even have tech stable enough for that now.”

“A glitch from another timeline?” Echo teased, but her voice wavered.

Ghost’s hands cut through the air: Why give us a key for a lock that doesn’t exist?

Minjo’s lips curved into something predatory. Her gaze slid to the pedestal where she had placed another technical mystery from the Zone. “Maybe it does.”

The Black Snakeskin Box didn’t gleam. It drank. Its scales were a velvety, matte black that devoured light until the eye recoiled, as if staring into a pit that had no bottom.

“I’ve been studying it,” Minjo confessed. “It’s a delivery system. Quantum entanglement, maybe. But that would demand an impossible power source…” Her brow knit tight. “And yet—the same repeating pattern in Jihoon and the box. So I keep asking myself… what feeds on the absence of light?”

“Anti-light,” Echo blurted. “Like antimatter, but for photons?”

Plague snorted. “That’s not science. That’s pulp.”

Minjo waved him off. “No, no. It’s like it draws energy from what isn’t there.”

Ghost signed one word. Clean. Absolute. “Entropy.”

Minjo froze, wide-eyed, like Ghost had just given her the last number in a holy equation. She scribbled furiously across a pad, calculations blooming in jagged lines.

“Echo, build an adapter between that chip and that box. I’ll construct the viewer. Ghost—hack the box’s signal. Find a way to broadcast it back into the Zone and see if you can get a response from Kyra.”

Before anyone could argue, she whirled on Plague. “And you—I have your assignment. Once we find Jihoon, you’re the one who cures him.” She pulled a vial from a drawer; inside were the iridescent keratin crescents. “Claws. Proof he’s mutating. And here—” she flicked biometric scans onto his tablet—“the night before he caught fire.”

Plague’s eyes lit like a gambler’s. “Beautiful. But I need a control. Something from before mutation.”

Minjo hesitated, then crossed to a battered trunk. She dug out a dog-eared math textbook and, from between its pages, drew a delicate paper crane. When she unfolded it, strands of short black hair glimmered in the low light.

For a moment, no one spoke. The air seemed to still around the fragile keepsake.

Plague raised a brow. “You kept this?”

Her face flushed. “Don’t read into it.”

Echo glanced at her, caught the flicker of emotion Minjo tried to bury, and smiled knowingly.

Plague slid the hair into a sterile tube. “Control acquired.” He rolled up his sleeves. “Let’s see what our little monster is made of.”

Hours bled into a blur of frantic creation. Coffee cups stacked like a miniature skyline. Solder smoke, smelling of pine and hot plastic, veiled the rafters. Sparks flew from grinders, and the air filled with the whine of high-speed drills.

By dawn, something immense loomed in the half-light: a freestanding ring of brass coiled with copper, gauges trembling on its frame. Clockwork gears stood poised to turn like the teeth of a steel giant.

Plague lifted his head from a microscope, blinking at the thing. “What the hell is that?”

“A lens,” Minjo said simply.

Echo’s throat went dry. “We built a Hephaestus Gate.”

Minjo scoffed. “More like a chronal resonance viewer.” She gripped a heavy lever. “Ready?”

The workshop lights dimmed, then the ring flared with a low, resonant hum. Gravity seemed to fail, as if a poltergeist had seized the room—levitating pens, papers, and tools in silent revolt. Gears clanked, relays snapped, and the air thickened, tasting sharply of ozone. The inner circle shimmered, not as a hologram, but like a mirror remembering.

Luminous Roman numerals wheeled into a spiraling vortex, casting an eerie phosphorescence across the room as tools, notes, and loose strands of hair lifted, weightless, into the air.

And then— A faint brass horn. A snatch of jazz, warped by static. The shuffle of footsteps on cobblestone. A man’s laugh, cut short by a stutter of distant gunfire.

The sounds bled into Minjo’s lab like ghosts that had been waiting a hundred twenty-six years to speak. On the monitor, green text scrolled once, then froze:

ARCHIVAL RECORDING — CHICAGO, FEBRUARY 14, 1929

The Engine Room is back! Lots of wonderfully inventive and finely crafted items in this round, it's always such an elegant and imaginative treat.  .... After much thought and intense writing, the Apoohis story continues, shedding its cyberpunk and stepping into the Steampunk world.   ...For this first post, the gang unlocks a secret thanks to the RS Store Syn Time Twist. It's a clever illusion using projectors, it really does look like a time swirling down the drain. It's mod so you can tint and resize it. It also comes with a hud to tint its hologram colors.   ....From Starlit Endeavor is wonderful new outfit, Nomanda overalls, with a crazy number of mesh bodies supported, even canidae legs (LaraX, LaraX Flat, Legacy M, Legacy F, Legacy F Flat, Aesthetic, Jake, Anatomy, Ebody, Ebody flat, Ebody Waifu). For Minjo, I used LaraX Flat, and used the pant length option for taller boots. The textures are PRB and with a hud you can customize or tint.    ....Matching is the Nomada Journal. It can trigger animations and poses, raise or lower the journal, plus many texture options, and ability to customize the notepad.    ....From Apricot Paws are the Faux Fingers with fits for Lara X, Reborn, or Legacy F. They come with a texture hud to change out the look. Textures are PBR. Faux Fingers    ....Ni.Ju brings the new Tomtom Hair with style options, mullet with bangs, no bangs, rigged and unrigged, for men and women. The hair is PBR only and comes with many texture options.    ....Below you see another view of the Widow's Workshop by Candle and Cauldron. It's beautifully crafted and detailed. A trap door, sliding doors for a backroom, stairwell, fireplace stones, large windows and scenic landscape of Victorian buildings. It comes with a hud to switch turn off the landscape, or switch between PBR textures of tile floor or wood, wood walls or aged wallpaper.    ....Standing in for Black Snakeskin Box, is the Wormhole Suitcase by Linkrave. It's a wearable transporter you can program for up to 5 locations. Pretty fun!

On her, Minjo, Robotics prodigy:

Headset: Waffle Science Lab [W] Operator Headset [mesh](Engine Room)(250L)

Journal: Starlit Endeavor Nomada Journal and Pen [mesh](Engine Room)(600L)

Outfit: Starlit Endeavor Nomada Overalls Set (LaraX Flat Human) [mesh](Engine Room)(1900L)

Arms: Apricot Paws: Faux Fingers [mesh](Engine Room)(527L)

Hair: NI.JU Tomtom Hair, naturals [mesh](Engine Room)(300L)

Boots: CULT Ashton - MaitreyaX [mesh]

Glasses: GRAAL STORE Elion Glasses [mesh](249L)

Bodysuit: Sn@tch Full Knit Bodysuit, Black [BOM]

Head: LeLUTKA CAMILA [mesh](3990L)

Body: Maitreya Mesh Body LaraX [mesh](2750L)
Body mod: Maitreya Mesh Body - LaraX FlatChest Add-on [mesh](499L)

Setting:

Portal: RSStore RS-Syn-Time Twist [mesh](Engine Room)(525L)

Skybox: Candle And Cauldron C&C - The Widow's Workshop [mesh](Engine Room)(399L)

Suitcase: LINKRAVE Wormhole Suitcase - Aged Brown [mesh] (685L)

BONUS IMAGES: inworld raw shot, hi-res, midday sky.