Showing posts with label AsteroidBox. Show all posts
Showing posts with label AsteroidBox. Show all posts

Thursday, September 17, 2026

Cyber Fair: The Scoop of the Century 2 (Escape from Club Apophis, 57)


(click to enlarge)


STORYLINE: Forbidden Zone, MasterGin’s Personal Suite

“What’s up, Dragonlets! It’s your girl Lisa Liemawr of the Hexa Herald, reunited with the new and improved M10. Woot Woot! You'll never guess where we are. 150 meters below GIN AESTHETICA™. #SecretBunker. But Lisa, why does a Plastic Surgery Clinic need an underground lair? Good question. We're about to break open The Scoop of the Century! …Or so this fetching eye candy tells me.”

M10’s optic lens swung from Lisa’s face, focusing on the supermodel like figure framed in the doorway.

Clove cigarette smoke.
The white Marilyn hair.
Jihoon’s new photogenic face. “Lathandro
™.”

“I mean, what the hell am I looking at?” Lisa leaned toward the camera. “Is MasterGin forming a boy band of baddies?”

The figure gave a soft dry snort.

SUS. 

Jihoon barely held eye contact during press junkets. Whoever was wearing his face right now owned the room like he'd built it himself.

The camera pivoted back to Lisa, her eyes shining with scandal hunting delight. “I have questions, Dragonlets. Click subscribe if you think we found our lost baseball ringer Lathandro. Click like if you think this is extra SUS. Leave a comment if you think Lisa sucked in too much apocalypse sewer sludge and is high out of her mind… or dead.”

Jihoon burst out laughing.

The sound was deeper than Lisa remembered. Smooth as polished obsidian. Dark. Entirely wrong.

He smirked with MasterGin’s exact theatrical confidence, dragging slow smoke from the long-stemmed silver snake cigarette while flashing his long silver claws. “That’s why I like you, Miss Lisa Lies More. You’re bold. You make me laugh.”

He turned toward the interior, waving a manicured hand. “Come. Let’s talk business.”

He paused mid-step as a shudder rippled across his skin.

Lisa whipped out her halophone, fingers flying as she snapped rapid photos.

Jihoon’s features stuttered. The pale flesh blurred like wet oil paint. White hair darkened to gold blond. Wrinkles dug into his forehead and around eyes. Darker and mottled, his skin was aging decades in a fraction of a second. It was a face Lisa had never seen, not even in the Hexa Herald archive. 

Click. Click.

Another glitch and the moment vanished. Flesh bleached instantly back to porcelain. Features tightened into razor-sharp lines. Pale blue eyes flared under the light.

MasterGin emerged like a sculpture freshly carved from white marble.

Of course. He'd worn the “Lathandro™” face like a costume, just to watch her flinch.

His smile widened. He knew she had seen it.

“Or did you forget you work for me, Dear?”

Lisa forgot to breathe. The camera kept recording, storing the rapid-fire captures in her local buffer. For one single heartbeat, she had glimpsed something real beneath the god. A man hidden beneath layers of living art and Glamour.

“You look disappointed,” he purred.

Lisa swallowed hard, holding her device steady. “I’m just deciding which face belongs to the guy paying my checks.”

His smile broadened, sharp and predatory. “Careful, Dear. Never ask a plastic surgeon if his face is real.”

The air smelled of clove masking the heavy, copper tang of dried blood.

Lisa stepped past him into the suite, keeping her eyes moving. “Well now. Color me surprised. I thought your lair would be obsidian and gold, with bloodless bodies stacked in the corners. Instead, this place is immaculate and white.”

Her gaze caught a huge circular holographic sphere suspended around a white leather hover chair. Its translucent surface crowded with surveillance feeds, biometric readouts, and shifting data streams. A single monitor glowed beside the hovering lounger, while a sleek holder displayed MasterGin’s personal halophone like a ceremonial relic.

She took rapid shots, zeroing in on the familiar faces flickering across the holographic display: Plague moving through Sector 4 on repeat, Echo, Minjo, Hwan, Kyra, Paine... Then Lisa saw herself from three seconds earlier, standing in this exact doorway.

“Is this all live?”

MasterGin raised a slim remote.

The holographic sphere folded inward, every face and data stream collapsing into a single white point before vanishing entirely.

“The disappointment is mine,” he said, letting his lip curl into a dramatic pout. “I present to you the secret of my empire, and all you care about is security footage.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow, double-checking that M10 had cached the screen layout before the black-out. “So then. You invited me into your pad. Does that mean you want to suck my blood, or some standard vampire bullshit?”

“Nothing so gauche.” He lit another cigarette, the sweet scent of cloves filling the room. “I have an assignment for you.”

While his gaze dropped to his tablet, Lisa slid one foot back, measuring the distance to the corridor.

“Silence?” MasterGin looked up, his pale eyes catching her mid-pivot. “I see. Hesitation.”

Lisa froze. Cornered.

The ancient vampire glided across the floor, his boots making no sound against the polished white stone. The heavy door slammed shut behind her with a firm click.

“Before you attempt an escape, there is something you should see. Come.” He gestured with a single long finger.

With no path backward, Lisa followed.

M10 hovered by the door frame, its internal gyros whining as it refused to cross deeper into the structure.

She couldn't blame it. M10 had good reason to fear MasterGin. She glanced at the faint burn scar still visible beneath its new paint job.

They stepped through a side portal directly onto an elevated walkway overlooking the Apophis ATELIER factory floor. The scale hit Lisa like a physical punch. Below them, elaborate silk gowns and armor rigs hung from high ceiling tracks. Low-level goblins and demon assistants moved rapidly between buzzing sonic sewing machines and vats of dye. The air here was heavy with hot metal, burning ozone, and synthetic silk fumes.

MasterGin crossed the catwalk toward his glass office, where a glowing nameplate read Evil Queen. Mounted behind his desk sat a massive LED board displaying confirmed attendees for the Opening of the Mouth Ceremony, listing international heads of state, corporate lords, and high-tier influencers.

“Ah, here it is,” MasterGin said, stopping beside the White Snakeskin Box on his desk. He flipped the latch and reached inside, pulling out a waterlogged, filth-stained teddy bear.

Teddy!

Lisa’s stomach turned to lead. She reached out, gripping the edge of the glass desk to keep her knees from giving way.

“Awww. Did you lose something, my Dear?” His claws dug into the plush fur, ripping the seams open with slow precision. “Something that runs on…” He reached inside and yanked out the glowing Devil Heart battery that powered her long-range transmission. “…My power?”

He closed his hand into a fist. Micro-gears popped and sparked. Metallic dust and shattered glass leaked between his fingers.

“You really should stop mistaking hidden cameras for hidden secrets.”

Lisa swallowed down the burning bile in her throat. Teddy was her life raft. That bear held raw, unedited footage of the prisoners and auction, primed to blast past the jamming grid the second it breached the Forbidden Zone’s perimeter. Without it, there was no backup. No rescue team coming. No proof.

She stared at the metallic dust on his hand. How much did he actually see? Had he been watching their entire path through the sewers, the pen, and the clinic? Were their desperate moves just part of his show?

MasterGin wiped his palm on a silk handkerchief, his eyes locked onto hers with dark satisfaction.

“How?” was all she could say.

“Entropy power is traceable, my Dear. Don’t take it personally,” he said softly, stepping closer until she could smell the clove smoke on his breath. “I have had a very long time to plan.”



On him, MasterGin:
Top: GRIMA - Tanya Tactical Top [Legacy V-Tech][mesh](CyberFair)(650L)
Pants: GRIMA - Tanya Tactical Pants Bulge [LegacyF][mesh](CyberFair)(650L)
Boots: Diaboli Design - Excinitor fatpack [mesh](CyberFair)(999L)
Skin: VelvetVue - Kai Skin Ivory (VE) / NO BROWS [BOM](CyberFair)(699L)
Eyes: EUPHORIC - Xena Eyes #P3-01 [BOM] (380L)
Nails: AsteroidBox - Simple Nails - LegacyF [mesh]
Cigarette holder: GRAAL - SMOKING SNAKE [mesh](349L)
Hair: bonbon - tame hair, naturals [mesh]
Collar: Cruel - Sulfur Gorget, Legacy M [mesh](100L)Head: LeLUTKA - CAMDEN 4.0 [mesh]
Body: TheShops - Meshbody Legacy (f) Special Edition (Basic) 1.2 [mesh]
Pose: AGATA mode - agapee_unpack P4

Setting:
Skybox: Erfe Design - Cyber Skybox House 170 LI  unfurnished [mesh](CyberFair)(2290L)
Statue: Erfe Design - Arog Techno Woman White PBR 3 LI [Erfe Design]

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





Thursday, September 10, 2026

Cyber Fair: The Age of Apophis, part 2 (Escape from Club Apophis, 56)


(click to enlarge)

STORYLINE: Forbidden Zone border. 1 pm.

For one brief moment, the Ruler of the Night believed he had won. The boy, Jihoon, was finally his fledgling. MasterGin's centuries-long plot was completely dismantled. Order had claimed the board.

"Cancel the ceremony," he said, savoring the words.

The robotic lioness’s heavy titanium tail stopped its rhythmic swaying. Its synthetic optic lenses suddenly whirred, expanding into wide, black rings.

"But, my King, the nobles from all around the world are already arriving."

The Ruler paid the beast no mind. He activated an archived hologram on his wrist display. Lucien Ginerva, the man the world knew as MasterGin, was draped across his shoulder in a candid nightclub shot. Clad in a plunging gold chainmail dress that clung to his pale frame like liquid metal, Lucien looked breathtaking, scandalous, and entirely in his element. His head was thrown back in a wicked, limelight-stealing laugh. "I am sorry, my dearest friend,” the Ruler murmured to the projection. "Your machinations were impressive. But Order will always claim the board.” He pressed a gloved finger to his lips, then traced the glowing contour of Lucien's cheek with a tenderness he showed no living creature. "Our game will continue another thousand years."

He leaned back against the alley wall, lost in thought.

Suddenly the air changed, as if a cloud passed over the sun. 
The temperature plummeted ten degrees in a single heartbeat. Automated streetlights along the avenue flickered to life.

The lioness froze. Its metal ears rose. It's retinal HUDs flickered across its optical sensors as it looked toward the sky.

"WARNING. Photonic Decay Detected."

The sun sat squarely overhead, but the light turned a sickly, bruised gray.

“Cause?” The Ruler scanned the horizon.

"Solar output remains at one hundred percent," the lioness stated, its voice carrying an unsettling micro-second of latency. "Surface illumination in this sector has dropped to twelve percent. Cause undefined."

Shadows stretched across the concrete like spilled ink, swallowing the midday glare. His ocular implants auto-compensated, cranking brightness to maximum, but the rising dark simply absorbed the artificial light.

A sharp ping rattled his audio receiver.

"Priority Alert," the AI interrupted from the wrist display. The hologram shifted into a tactical map. A heavy strike hovercopter had just crossed into Korean airspace.

The Ruler zoomed in on the optic feed. The heavily armed UN gunship swept low over the coast. Emblazoned across the black hull were the stark white letters UN beneath the logo of the black widow spider.

Maximilian. His arch enemy.

The Ruler tapped his console, routing a direct, encrypted frequency straight to the White House. A veto from the US in the UN could scuttle any resolution. A single vote from Washington would force Maximilian to retreat.

The line rang. Busy signal.

He redialed immediately, overriding security protocols.

A synthesized voice chimed in his ear. "We're sorry. The number you have reached is no longer in service."

The Ruler froze, his hand hovering above the glowing interface. The line disconnected. He didn’t ask the AI for an explanation. He already knew. This was Lucien’s fault. The idiot had insulted the leader of the free world. His half-hearted apology had lead to their undoing.

High above, the sunlight faded further. A bitter chill swept across the alleyway.

He removed his glove and exposed his bare hand to the sky. He felt no burning. No blistering heat. The daylight had lost its teeth. Soon, the creatures of the night would discover the truth.

Chaos was winning.

The screen of his wrist device glitched, resolving into the static logo of Monstrum, a sigil designed by Lucien himself.

The Ruler stared at the emblem of the serpent swallowing the sun. For the first time in a thousand years, he felt something cold move through his chest. He had greatly underestimated Lucian.

"Your orders, my King?"

The Ruler bolted toward the hovercar, clearing the armored door in a single leap.

"Get Lucien on the line now! Mobilize every division! Seal the northern gates!" he roared into his comms, slamming the throttle to maximum. "And delay the cancellation of the ceremony. Tell no one. We need all the incoming nobility for the war."

The engine screamed to life, tearing out of the alley and plunging into the dimming streets of the Forbidden Zone.

At noon, the world was drowning in shadow. The serpent had swallowed the sun. The Age of Apophis had arrived.




On him, MasterGin:
Outfit: MASON - SINTETIC BODY - LARAX [mesh](CyberFair)
Boots: ANTAYA - Boots "Mora" LaraX[mesh](CyberFair)
Tattoo: ARANA - Sci Arms  -Arms Example 2K [BOM]
Nails: AsteroidBox - Simple Nails - LaraX[mesh]
Collar: Cruel Sulfur Gorget, Legacy M [mesh]
Hair: bonbon - tame hair, naturals [mesh]
Eyes: S0NG - Vampy, Old Ice Eye [BOM]
Skin: Skin Arcana - Maverick, FAIR [BOM]
Skin: Pink Fuel - [PF] <Porcelain> Boi/Athletic [BOM]
Head: LeLUTKA - CAMDEN 4.0 [mesh]
Body: Maitreya - Mesh Body LaraX [mesh]
Body mod: Maitreya - Mesh Body - LaraX FlatChest Add-on [mesh]
Pose: piXit - Sensual - Secret Couple Pose

On him, The Ruler:
Top: Bartimeu - B-120 Cyber Shirt [ATHLETIC] [mesh](CyberFair)
Skin, face: VOGLIA - "THOROS" FANTASY Skin (EvoX) (tinted)[BOM](CyberFair)
Pants: Bartimeu - B-53 Pants L/A [mesh](CyberFair)
Eyes: SHIMM - CYBER XV BONUS [BOM](CyberFair)
Hair: NO.MATCH - NO_COLOURS male [mesh]
Claws: L'Emporio&PL - Oblio Vampire Claws male [mesh]
Head: LeLUTKA - CAMDEN 4.0 [mesh]

Setting:
Set: Bersav - Chrome Noir // Top Build Piece [PBR][mesh](CyberFair)
Trees: Little Branch - LB_CyberBloom{Animated}*P[mesh](CyberFair)

BONUS IMAGES: inworld raw shots, hi-res, midday sky, default camera:








Thursday, February 19, 2026

Midnight Order: Paine and Temptation (Escape from Club Apophis, 33)


(clink to enlarge)

STORYLINE: The deal was sealed with a handshake. Disgusting.

From her station in the shadows of the greenroom, Nurse Paine watched the transaction with the cold, clinical detachment of a coroner. The handshake between her master, the divine Dr. Lucien Ginerva, and that pink-haired parasite, Romance, wasn’t just a business agreement. It was an infection.

“You look thin. Bring your best face to the Opening of the Mouth Ceremony. Drink ten years,” MasterGin purred, releasing the idol’s hand.

Paine tried to hide her smirk. Ten years. An exquisite insult.

She watched MasterGin sashay away, his tunic dissolving into the clinic light, leaving the room feeling emptier, colder. He didn’t look at her. He never did. He just left her with the mess, as he had for twenty years.

She turned her gaze to Romance. He was preening in the mirror, hair slowly turning pink, and wiping a faint smudge of soul from his lip. Life he had stolen right out on the street, in front of the clinic, under the glare of a thousand cameras.

Reckless. A liability wrapped in velvet and bad decisions. He risked the Great Work. The Monstrum. The Master himself. All for a quick hit of adoration. And for what? To save a broken cyborg girl who was destined for the scrap heap anyway?

Romance caught her staring in the reflection. He didn't look ashamed. He looked bored.

“You are walking on borrowed time, Master Romance,” Paine said, her voice dropping into the quiet, lethal register she usually reserved for uncooperative patients.

He spun the chair slowly, crossing his legs with an elegance that made her want to snap his femur.

“Aren’t we all? That’s why I’m curious.”

He leaned back, studying her with those impossible, mischief-flecked eyes. He looked at her not as a threat, but as a specimen.

“You keep his house clean. His rules intact. His miracles on schedule,” he drawled. “But you’re mortal. Spending your life in service to a monster who barely looks twice at you.”

The words struck her like a scalpel, precise and severing.

Mortal.

The word hung in the air, smelling of rot. She looked down at her white heels. They were scuffed at the toe. Scuffed from running down hallways, kicking open doors, dragging heavy, unconscious bodies into prep rooms. Scuffed from doing the dirty work while he floated above it all in a cloud of clove smoke and opera music.

She forced her head up. She would not let this glitter-covered leech see her bleed.

“My service is not for his vanity,” she lied, the words tasting like ash. “It is for the Great Work. The resurrection of the old ways.”

“The Old Ways?” Romance laughed softly, a sound that grated on her nerves like a bone saw hitting a clamp. “You mean like the Opening of the Mouth? The catering alone must be a nightmare. Let me guess… he handles the guest list, and you handle the carcass?”

Paine flinched. It was a microscopic movement, a twitch of the eyelid, but he saw it.

Carcass. That’s all Jihoon was to him. But to her? He was the clay of her master. She ensured the transition was seamless.

“The High Priestess does not complain of the weight of the knife,” she snapped, her voice rising.

“High Priestess,” Romance mused, standing up. He drifted toward her, invading her sterile field. He smelled of amber musk and freshly baked cinnamon buns. “A grand title for a janitor. You look exhausted, Paine. When was the last time you slept? Or does he keep you running on stimulants and promises?”

He stopped inches from her face. His beauty upclose undeniable.

“He treats you like furniture. Useful. Silent. Easily replaced.”

Rage, hot and white, flared in her chest. Her nails bit into her palm. *Furniture?* She was the foundation! Without her, GIN AESTHETICA™ would crumble into a heap of lawsuits and bio-waste within a week. She managed the supply lines. She silenced the inspectors. She fed the beast. 

She smoothed a wrinkle in her a pristine couture scrubs.

“Be ready,” she hissed, stepping back to put distance between her and his seductive scent. “The camera is waiting.”

She reached for the door panel, desperate to be away from him, to be back in the cold, logical embrace of her lab.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The room washed in a sudden, pulsing crimson light.

Paine froze. Her heart rate didn't spike, it steadied. This was familiar. This was procedure.

She tapped her wrist-console. A holographic grid projected into the air, cutting through the red haze.

Sector 4. Sub-Level Maintenance. The VIP Tunnel.

Grainy night-vision footage flickered to life.

Five figures moving through the shadows. Covered in muck. Moving fast.

She squinted. The tactical gear. The girl with the camera. The boy with the glowing gloves.

The escapees.

The ones from the Pen. The ones who had caused a riot at the auction. They were here. In her house.

“Intruders,” she whispered, the word a curse. “Unauthorized biocodes detected.”

Her fingers flew across the console. This was it. The excuse she needed to vent the fury building in her veins.

“Summoning Enforcer Squad Alpha,” she announced, her thumb hovering over the execution command. “Seal the exits.”

“Wait.”

Romance stepped in front of the hologram, blocking her view.

“Don’t call the dogs yet. Look at them. They’re barely standing. Sewer rats in human clothes.”

“They are breaching the Holy Sanctum. Defiling the clinic where a God performs miracles.” Paine snarled, dodging around him to reach the icon. “Protocol demands—”

He grabbed her wrist.

The contact was electric. A fiery jolt shot through her core, ringing her like a bell.

“Look at me, Paine,” he breathed.

His eyes flared with a hypnotic, neon-pink light. The air suddenly smelled of yearning and first kisses. She felt the warmth brush her skin, syrupy and false, and she did not yield.

“You don’t want to call the guards. You want to let them pass. You’re so tired of fighting. Just... let it go.”

She felt the enchantment wash over her like a warm bath. It tugged at her thumping heart, whispered to her exhausted muscles that it was okay to rest, okay to fail, okay to just... stop.

It was a powerful spell. Against a human, it would have been absolute.

For one treacherous heartbeat, she wanted to let go.

But Paine was not just human. Not anymore.

For decades, she had taken her communion from the Master’s own vein. His blood, ancient and cursed, had rewritten her marrow. It burned like antiseptic fire in her veins, hardened her mind against the soft, sticky fingers of lower magics.

She looked at Romance. She didn't feel love. She felt insulted.

She didn't swoon. She sneered.

And then, she backhanded him.

SMACK.

It was a beautiful sound. Wet. Heavy. Final.

Romance stumbled backward, crashing into the makeup chair. He looked at her with genuine shock, clutching his bleeding lip.

“Do not insult me with your parlor tricks, Idol,” she spat, stepping over him.

She felt the change in her eyes, the iris burning red, legacy of the Master’s blood rising to the surface.

“Did you think I was mere cattle? I have supped from the Master’s own vein. His blood runs in my marrow. Your little love spells have no purchase here.”

Romance touched his lip, checking for blood. “Well,” he wheezed, straightening his jacket with a wince. “That explains the bad attitude.”

Paine ignored him. She turned back to the screen, zooming in on the feed.

Minjo. The robotics girl. She was dismantling a security camera with a multitool. The movements were precise, practiced. Familiar.

Paine’s mind raced. How did they get past the outer sensors? How did they know the tunnel layout?

Romance.

She whirled on him, pressing a scalpel-sharp fingernail into the expensive fabric of his lapel.

“You’re running a ratline,” she accused, her voice a low growl. “The smuggler in the Zone. It was you.”

He opened his mouth, but she silenced him with a look.

“And Sister Sophia,” she whispered, the name tasting bitter. “I will never stop looking for her. Our fellowship is broken without her. Did you make her disappear too?”

Romance slapped her hand away. The playful mask cracked, revealing something sharp and angry underneath.

“She died trying to save the world from monsters like you."

The name hit her like a physical blow. The air left her lungs. Sophia... dead? The possibility had always been a whisper in the back of her mind, a cold dread she refused to acknowledge. Hearing it spoken aloud shattered the fragile hope she’d carried for two years.

He pointed at the screen, at the dirty, desperate kids crawling through the pipes.

“They aren’t assassins, Paine. They’re children. They’re just here for the boy. Jihoon.”

“The Chosen One,” Paine corrected automatically as if it were scripture. “And…,” hurt leaked into her voice, “we were all born under the same star.”

“You mean you’re all born the same year?” Romance laughed softly, “Wow. Evil has aged you.”

She ground her teeth, and looked back at the screen.

The red-haired girl moved with surgical intent. She wiped slime from her face. The boy with the gloves helped the reporter over a pipe. They were terrified. They were filthy.

And they were walking straight into a meat grinder.

The Enforcers were stationed at the end of that corridor. Heavily armed. Hungry. If she let the alarm stand, those kids would be shredded in less than three minutes.

Paine looked at the red button.

If she pressed it, she did her duty. She protected the Master. She upheld the order.

But then... she looked at Romance. The "ratline." He was helping them. undermining the Master right under his nose.

*He treats you like furniture. Useful. Silent. Easily replaced.*

The words echoed in her skull.

Why should she clean up this mess? Why should she call the guards and let them have all the fun?

If these kids were smart enough to break into the Zone, survive the sewers, and breach the Sanctum... perhaps they were interesting. Perhaps they deserved a test.

And if they failed? Well, The Opening of the Mouth always drew hungry guests.

Paine lowered her hand. A thought, cold and calculating, formed in her mind. She watched the live feed collapse into static. She had already purged the archive. The system would remember nothing.

“The Master believes his security is absolute,” she murmured. “He believes no human can touch him.”

She looked at her scuffed heels. Then at the alarm.

“Let’s see if he’s right.”

She tapped the console.

ALARM CANCELED.

She keyed the comms line, her voice shifting instantly into her bored, administrative tone.

“Control, this is Paine. Belay that order. False alarm in Sector 4. Sensors are tripping on sewer rats chewing the power cables again. I will go down and verify the damage personally.”

“Copy that, Nurse Paine,” the radio crackled. “Standing down.”

The red light died.

Romance stared at her, his jaw hanging slightly open. “Why?”

Paine walked to the medical cabinet. She unlocked it with a thumbprint. The heavy, chrome bone-saw gleamed in the light. Beside it, a syringe of paralytic neurotoxin.

She slid them into the deep pockets of her pristine white coat.

“Because if they are competent enough to breach the outer wall, they deserve an audience,” she said, checking the weight of the saw in her pocket. “And if they are not… the ghouls will eat well tonight.”

She walked to the door, pausing to look back at him.

“Get to the studio, Romance. Smile for the camera. Sell the lie. Do what you were bought to do.”

“And you?” he asked.

Paine smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.

“I have a mess to clean up.”

She swept out of the room, her heels clicking a sharp, solitary rhythm down the hall. Let the Master play with celebrities and haute couture.

The Master demanded order. But tonight, it was Paine who would become chaos.

Midnight Order is ending soon. Be sure to return for new items added, and if you missed any generious gifts.   ...DJ Romance returns sporting some K-pop Demon awesomeness. His edgy outfit is by Dope+ Mercy. You can use the texture hud in the fatpack for base colors and several cool patterns. The top is mod, so I edited it for a burgundy color with the nice heavy metal looking pattern. The shredded pants also have texture options, I used the worn version.  ...This style of pant look great with big stompers so I paired with the Cult Obsidian boots.   ... Romance is rocking a messy mullet by Dura U136. It comes in several color packs, I used Light. The hair is not rigged so you use the hug to adjust the fit and edit it. I added the hair the U135 for extra Romance style lengh in the back. Perfect match! In the raw image below you can see the hair without the longer lower end.   ...Also in the closeup image below, I included the gold version of the Auto Stellar Nose Chain. It comes in silver, black, and gold. It's mod, so you can adjust the fit.   ...How about that awesome Ghoul Tail by The Deadboy? It automatically BOM fits your skin texture. For me it auto added the Fishnet detail! You can adjust in the hud the transparency of the skin, the cartoon outline colors for the bones and the tail, or hide the parts you don't want to show.  ... Adding his trademark heart theme is the Heart Dermal Piercings by Stoic. They are mod so you can adjust the size and placement by hand.   ....Adding more gothic punk style, are the BOM upper Fishnet by AsteroidBox, and lower an old favorite by Sna@tch that closely matches the style of the upper.

On him, DJ Romance:
Hair: Dura - U136 -ALL-Men's, Light [mesh](Midnight Order)(390L)
Top: Dope+Mercy - Offcut Harness Top, LEGACY [mesh](Midnight Order)(300L)
Pants: Dope+Mercy - Offcut Trousers, LEGACY [mesh](Midnight Order)(350L)
Tail: The DeadBoy - Ghoul Tail [mesh](Midnight Order)(899L)
Nose Chain: AURO - Stellar Nose Chain, BLACK [mesh](Midnight Order)(299L)
Hair lower: Dura - U135-Light [mesh]
Piercings: STOIC - HEART DERMAL PIERCING SILVER [mesh]
Boots: CULT - Obsidian Male - Legacy Male [mesh]
Fishnet upper: AsteroidBox - Shredded Nets - Black Plain [BOM]
Fishnet lower:  Sn@tch - Fishnet Tights Torn [BOM]
Head: LeLUTKA - Kane Evolution [mesh](3990L)
Body: TheShops - [BODY] Athletic Meshbody (Legacy)(m) (1.7.1) [mesh](5000L)

BONUS IMAGES: inworld raw shots, hi-res, midday sky :





Thursday, November 27, 2025

Salvage Station: The Pen (Escape from Club Apophis, 28)

(click to enlarge)


STORYLINE: Lisa Liemawr held her phone up like a holy relic in a cathedral of rust.

“Welcome back, Dragonlets!” Her voice hit that perfect, chirpy register, the one that usually sold energy drinks and scandal. “It’s your girl Lisa, coming to you with the exclusive from…”

She dropped her voice to a haunted stage-whisper.

“…The Forbidden Zone.”

She fluttered "spooky fingers" at the lens.

The bold and brash Hexa Herald reporter checked her reflection in the black screen before the recording started. It was a disaster. Her bangs clung to her forehead in greasy, tragic ropes. Her eyeliner was a smudge of war paint.

“No glamour filters today. #NoMakeupChallenge: Hellscape Edition,” she said, crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue. "Today’s vlog is pre-recorded since Wi-Fi here is literally nonexistent, and my battery was raised from the dead via sketchy Monstrum Tech, thanks to our secret mole. #HumanSympathizer. Yay for having enough juice to record my last will and testament! Say hi to the fans, team!”

She whipped the phone around with influencer bravado.

The lens struggled to focus, grainy and grey. It swept across a row of rusted, modular housing units stacked like coffins under a flickering green sign: ATOMIC ESTATES.

Huddled in the long, jagged shadow of the structures were the captured students of Jae Won University. "The Avengers have assembled, folks." But they didn't look like heroes. They looked like refuse.

Ghost wasn’t looking at the camera. He was crouched against a corrugated wall, eyes scanning the laser perimeter like a caged wolf, his fingers tapping a silent, frantic rhythm against his thigh. Calculating.

“Check out the latest in post-apocalyptic streetwear,” Lisa narrated, zooming in on Kyra’s torn pants and the found scrap metal doubling as a prosthetic leg. “Derelicte. So hot right now.”

“Put the phone away, Lisa.”

Kyle Baek surged forward, his hand filling the frame. He didn't look like the sarcastic guard anymore; he looked haunted.

“We are in a concentration camp,” he growled, shoving the camera down. “People here look half-dead. Have some respect.”

Lisa gasped, pulling the phone back and feigning outrage. “It’s called a documentary, Kyle. If we die, I want my autopsy report to pull at least five hundred thousand views.” She turned the camera back on him, zooming in until his furious, dirt-streaked eyebrows filled the frame. “Tell us, Kyle, how does it feel knowing your little dare to Jihoon landed us in Monster Disneyland?”

Kyle flinched as if she’d slapped him. His eyes went wet, then hard. He didn't speak. He just smacked the phone out of her hand.

The camera spun wildly, ...sky, dirt, sky, capturing a blur of dense gray fog and the high-voltage shimmer of the fence. It landed with a thud, face-up.

Auto-focus adjusted. It locked onto what loomed above the camp.

Projected against the dark, smog-choked sky was a massive holographic poster. It showed Jihoon, no, Lathandro, clad in radiant white, luminous and holy, eyes downcast like a golden messiah forgiving their sins.

WELCOME HOME, LATHANDRO.

Lisa knelt to scoop up the phone, her hair brushing the lens. She paused, seeing the image on her screen. The bravado slipped, just for a second.

“That, my followers, is why we are here,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Nerdy nobody becomes Prince Charming of Monsters. Crazy, am I right?”

She aggressively wiped the lens on her sleeve. “Anyway, here’s the 411. We’re trapped in a radioactive 1950s sitcom running on sewer fumes and despair.”

She swung the camera toward Minjo. The robotics genius was sitting on a pile of scrap, grimly sharpening a stick against a rock.

“What do you think, Girl Genius? Are we glowing yet?”

Minjo stared at her as though Lisa were a misfiring toaster. “No. The radiation warnings are a deception to hide what's really powering The Zone.”

“Oooooh, conspiracy time. Whisper it to Lisa… and to my future Pulitzer committee.”

Minjo didn’t whisper. She lunged.

Thwack.

Her sharpened stick speared a mutant rat inches from Lisa’s boot. It screeched once, then went still. Minjo lifted the fresh kill by the tail, staring dead-eyed into the lens.

“I’m calling it the Entropy Engine,” Minjo said flatly.

“Right...” Lisa side-stepped her, as if Minjo was the first to go insane. “And speaking of despair...”

POOF.

Strawberry-scented smoke billowed around them, too sweet for the filth it drifted through.

“Whoa! Caught in 4K!” Lisa shouted, jumping back as Ghost instantly leveled his own sharpened stick at the pink haze.

The smoke cleared. Standing there, immaculate in a white suit that defied the grime of the camp, was Romance. He looked like he had just stepped off the stage at Inkigayo, smelling of crushed flowers and ozone.

“That, Dragonlets, is a bona fide Jeoseung Saja,” Lisa narrated, masking her relief. “Blink and you missed his career. Give it up for Saja Boy’s own DJ Romance!” She added fake cheering noises. “Tell us, how does a soul-sucking idol end up guarding Hell’s worst zip code?”

Romance covered the lens with a manicured hand. “Stop recording. You want to get us caught? The Children of Apophis have eyes everywhere.”

“No can do, my Maestro of Pink,” Lisa said, ducking under his arm with the agility of a paparazzo. “Lisa’s gotta scoop just as much as a fish’s gotta swim. If I don’t film, I get anxious. And when I get anxious, I cry. And when I cry, I get blotchy. Nobody wants that.”

He sighed. Then his gaze fell on Kyra.

“Kyra,” he said softly.

Lisa zoomed in tight.

The cheerleader was slumped against a crate. Her skin was a terrifying greyish-blue, and the neon veins in her neck flickered ominously. Her cybernetics whined with the brittle, dying-hard-drive sound of something begging for mercy.

“I’m... fine,” she wheezed. “Just... low power mode.”

“Liar,” Romance murmured.

He checked his surroundings, then reached into his pristine jacket. He pulled out a chip with the Monstrum logo on it. It buzzed with energy and smelled faintly of cotton candy.

He knelt, brushing a strand of dirty hair from her face. With the gentleness of a bomb disposal expert, he slotted the chip into the port behind her ear.

Kyra arched, light washing through her like a pink sunrise. Her optics flared, then stabilized. She gasped, color returning to her cheeks. “Better,” she breathed.

Romance smiled, that practiced, devastating idol smile that had once been plastered on bedroom walls.

Lisa whispered into the microphone. “#ForbiddenLove. One-hit wonder rocks the cradle with a cyborg. Leave your comments below.”

“I heard that,” Romance snapped, standing up. “She’s a college student. Shut your mouth.”

In the background, Ghost watched them, face emotionless. But the camera caught it: the precise moment his hand snaked out. While Romance was distracted defending Kyra’s honor, Ghost pickpocket the Idol and slid the ill-gotten gains into his wrist-mount with a surgeon’s stealth. His Halo-gloves, dead since the boundary, flickered. A tiny, pale blue light pulsed once.

Access.

Ghost hid his hands instantly. But he stiffened.

High above, on a rusting catwalk, a familiar figure stirred, black robes, amber eyes.

Hwan.

Ghost went statue still.

He locked eyes with the Guardian. Hwan had seen the theft. He had seen everything.

Romance was still fussing over Kyra, oblivious. Hwan could have shouted. He could have alerted the Nuns from hell.

Instead, the figure in the tower slowly turned his back.

Permission.

Ghost let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Suddenly, a loudspeaker crackled. A cheerful, tinny jingle played, a distorted, minor-key version of Mr. Sandman played on a broken xylophone.

“Attention, Happy Residents! It is time for the Gratitude Feast! Please proceed to the trough for your daily calorie intake!”

“The trough. Great.” Lisa gagged. “Okay, Pinkie. What’s going on?”

“It’s a mandatory celebration,” Romance said grimly, looking up at the glowing poster of Lathandro. “Master Gin is happy his ‘son’ has returned. So everyone must celebrate too.”

“…Right.” Lisa clicked her tongue, forcing the smile back on. She slapped Plague on the back; he jumped a foot in the air. “Let’s go review the catering, Nerd Snack.”

Lisa followed the shuffling crowd to the center of the plaza. The "Feeder," a man with a scarred face and a butcher’s apron, was happily ladling grey sludge into cupped hands, humming a nursery rhyme.

“Look at them,” Plague whispered, nudging Lisa. “They’re eating it like it’s five-star dining.”

He was right. The residents were shoving the flavorless paste into their mouths with frantic, mindless hunger.

“Okay, Dragonlets. Today on ‘Dystopian Eats,’ we have...” She zoomed in on the grey, bubbling sludge being ladled out of a rusted oil drum. “...Protein paste? Porridge? It smells like wet dog and pennies.”

“Okay," Lisa whispered. "Taste test.”

She took a tiny, tentative sip of the grey soup.

“Oh god.” She coughed, squeezing her eyes shut. “It tastes like sadness. Zero stars. Would not recommend.”

She lowered the cup, wiping her mouth. As she did, the camera panned across the crowd, capturing something off.

She zoomed in on a man’s neck as he swallowed.

“Whoa,” she mumbled.

Glowing softly under the grime of his skin were rune tattoos. They pulsed in time with his heartbeat. *Thump-glow. Thump-glow.*

“Marked,” Plague whispered, shivering. “Like inventory. All of them have it.”

Lisa wandered away from the trough, looking for better content—anything to distract from the glowing necks. She found Echo near the drainage outflow, kneeling in the mud.

“Echo?” Lisa gasped, zooming in. “Doing some spring cleaning?”

The camera panned across a neatly hanging row of used tin cans and rocks arranged in a pleasing geometric shape. A garden of garbage.

But Echo was acting strange. Regressed. She was digging in the mud with frantic, childlike intensity.

“What did you get there? A hidden gem? The key to getting out?”

Echo froze. Slowly, she lifted something from the mud.

A teddy bear. Or, it used to be. It was soiled with clay, missing one eye, its fur matted. Next to it lay a small red ball, deflated with age.

Lisa felt the air leave her lungs. The snark died in her throat.

“Lisa?” Echo asked, holding the bear out gently. Her voice was small. “I think... I think I can fix him. I can replace the missing eye with my shirt button...”

“Stop,” Lisa whispered. Then, louder. “Stop right now.”

She stared at the bear. Then she looked toward the edge of the camp, where the drainage pipe poured dark, oily water into the fog. A river that flowed *out* from the city.

“Echo,” Lisa said, her voice shaking violently. “I need you to do me a favor. Find me a bottle. A plastic bottle. Airtight.”

Echo handed the dirty bear to Lisa and darted off.

Lisa held the bear up to the camera. Her hands were trembling.

She stared at the lens. The mask was gone. The influencer was gone. There was only a terrified girl holding a piece of evidence.

“I had one of these,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Back when I thought monsters weren’t real.”

She zoomed in on the missing eye.

“Okay, folks... Time to get real.”

Tears welled in her eyes, hot and angry. She didn't wipe them away.

“This belongs to a child. A child who probably chased that red ball across the barrier. A kid who never came home.”

“Lisa, please,” Plague appeared at her side, looking terrified. “Keep your voice down. Let’s not draw attention—”

She tore her arm away. “Keep it down? “You think I’m being too loud?” She slammed the ball into his chest. “Tell that to the parents still stapling ‘Missing’ posters to rain-warped bulletin boards. Tell them their babies aren’t lost! They’re here! They’re livestock!”

She wiped her nose with her sleeve—a messy, unglamorous motion

“I will not rest until the world knows about this disgusting place. #ParentsDeserveToKnow.”

She shoved the phone into Plague’s hands.

“Film every face you can find in this cursed place,” she commanded.

Suddenly, a low, heavy thrumming sound echoed from the main gates. The ground vibrated.

The eating stopped. The residents froze, eyes wide with a conditioned terror.

The rusted gates groaned open.

Through the fog rolled a procession of vehicles that belonged in a museum or a nightmare. Vintage Rolls Royces drifted through the fog like funeral carriages.

Figures stepped out — gowns shimmering like spilled oil, jewels blinking like predator eyes.
They crossed the filth with the bored amusement of aristocrats at a petting zoo.

Lisa stared, horrified. “What... what is happening?”

Romance stepped up beside her, his face grim.

“The Gratitude Feast,” he whispered, watching the elites take their seats around the stage. “The humans eat first to look plump for the buyers. And now...”

He gestured to the vampires raising their auction paddles.

“...Now the real feast begins.”



Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I hope you all enjoy this ambitious post, (7 characters all in one post. The "7 Dwarfs" together at last). There are lots of sweet post apocalyptic goodies from Salvage Station in this. (And if you look hard, you might even spot Jihoon "Snow White" making a cameo.)  Gobble Gobble


On her, front row left to right, Lisa Liemawr (Happy):
Outfit: FenDuDu - Wasteland Verdict, fatpack [mesh](Salvage Station)(3688L)
Hair: CAMO - Nyx Braids  [mesh](Salvage Station)(699L)
Head, eyes, skin: LOGO - Dawn Desert Nomad [mesh]
Body: Meshbody - Legacy (f) Special Edition (Basic) 1.2 [mesh]
Group Pose: 10sai - Group Pose Stand #WEFIE

On her, Kyra (Sleepy):
Guest Appearance: Aarya Phantomhive, of the Dark Phantom blog.
Pants: AsteroidBox - Deteriorate Pants [mesh](Salvage Station)(289L)
Jacket: CHANDRA - Hyperion Jacket Reborn FATPACK [mesh](Salvage Station)(275L)
Jaw: Evil Baby - Jaws - Accessory [mesh](Salvage Station)(349L)
Makeup: eyecing - Ieku - eyes - liner [mesh](Salvage Station)(30L)
Tattoo: Nefekalum - Salvaged Armor - Polished 02 // Full Tattoo [mesh](Salvage Station)(199L)
Tattoo: SOMEONE - Infected Wounds - Face, Body, Eye [mesh](Salvage Station)(550L)
Tattoo: Fallen Gods - Skychylde, female body +FGInc.+ Canary PG [mesh](Salvage Station)(gift)
Makeup: Stelio - Grungy Eyepaint - Black (EvoX) [mesh](Salvage Station)(gift)
Collar: Cruel - Sulfur Gorget - Legacy F
Hair: A&Y - Medusa Cyber hair 2, multicolor [mesh]
Head, eyes: LeLUTKA - lel EvoX LILLY 3.1 [mesh](3990L)
Body: Maitreya - Mesh Body Lara [mesh](2750L)

On her, Echo (Dopey):
Helmet: Waffle Science & Research - [W] Civil Defender [mesh](Salvage Station)(250L)
Outfit: The Muses - Triste Bouffon - Ivory [mesh](Salvage Station)(250L)
Hair: Sintiklia - Lillith head 1 Fitted, colors ombres [mesh]

On her, front, Minjo (Doc):
Outfit: BEARCAT.EGG - Mira Top, Skirt, Legacy [mesh](Salvage Station)(500L)
Pet: AxisMundi - Bittersync-(B)ox-Hand L [animesh](Salvage Station)(800L)
Goggles: MILKBATH - Axel Goggles - Unrigged [mesh](Salvage Station)(399L)
Hair: NI.JU Tomtom Hair, naturals [mesh]

On him, back row left to right, Ghost (Bashful):
Scanner: Starlit Endeavor - Nomada Scanner, yellow [mesh](Salvage Station)(300L)
Cowl: SOMNIUM - Outlander [mesh](Salvage Station)(350L)
Coat: SOMNIUM - Outlander [mesh](Salvage Station)(350L)
Mask: Pucca Firecaster Creations - PFC Ninja (Male) [mesh]
Headband: Last Ride - 47 Samurai/Headband back [mesh]
Pants: REBIS - Werk Trousers [mesh](350L)
Gloves: Archivefaction - Penumbra Gloves_Legacy M_Slim Fingers [mesh]
Head: LeLUTKA Kane Evolution [mesh](3990L)
Body: TheShops - [BODY] Athletic Meshbody (Legacy)(m) (1.7.1) [mesh](5000L)

On him, back middle, Plague (Sneezy):
Helmet: Apika - Femm of War - Helmet [mesh](Salvage Station)(350L)
Shoes: CULT - Wasteland - Legacy M [mesh](Salvage Station)(369L)
Outfit: toksik - Invasion Top (Legacy M) (Black)
Cape: toksik - Invasion Cape M (Unrigged)
Gloves: Archivefaction - Penumbra Gloves_Legacy M_Slim Fingers [mesh]
Scar: Cubic Cherry - Decay [BOM, Materials]
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)

On him, Kyle (Grumpy):
Outfit: ONEDAYs - CLOUD OUTFIT - LEGACY [mesh](Salvage Station)(350L)
Tattoo: AURO - The Prophet : White // 25 // EVOX  [mesh](Salvage Station)(450L)
Necklace: HAUNT - Choke Chain [mesh](Salvage Station)(299L)
Sleeves: REBIS - Junkyard Sleeves . LegacyM, yellow [mesh](Salvage Station)(250L)
Hair: TRASH - Lucifer w/o Horns V1 - Rainbow pack [mesh]
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: LeLUTKA Kane Evolution [mesh](3990L)
Body: TheShops - [BODY] Athletic Meshbody (Legacy)(m) (1.7.1) [mesh](5000L)


Setting:
Neighborhood: LORE Atomic Estates Fatpack [mesh](Salvage Station)(1200L)
Bench: Dirty Rat - Derelict Bench [mesh](Salvage Station)(415L)
Cart: Dirty Rat - Derelict Cart [mesh](Salvage Station)(375L)
Billboard: Dirty Rat - Vintage Billboard w/o probe [mesh]
Bathroom: Eclectica - Wasteland Bathroom Set  [mesh](Salvage Station)(395L)
Picture frames: NI.JU - Broken Frame Set [mesh](Salvage Station)(250L)
Picture frames: NI.JU - Old N' Worn Frame Set [mesh](Salvage Station)(250L)
Alarm Stystem: Puddles - Tin Can Trap, Soft linked [mesh](Salvage Station)(200L)
Jeweler's work area: Random Matter - Junk Jeweler  [mesh](Salvage Station)(395L)
Desk: Random Matter - Junk Jeweler - Desks [mesh](Salvage Station)(275L)
Toolboxes: Random Matter - Junk Jeweler - Toolboxes [mesh](Salvage Station)(160L)
Necklace display: Random Matter - Junk Jeweler - Necklaces [mesh](Salvage Station)(160L)
Welders: Random Matter - Junk Jeweler - Hand Welders [mesh](Salvage Station)(160L)
Lamp: Duplexity - Nuk-a-Lamp (Ceiling) [mesh](Salvage Station)(249L)
Dunes: Fundati - Beach Cliffs C1 [mesh]

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








Monday, September 22, 2025

Cyber Fair: The Glass Coffin (Escape from Club Apophis, 19)

(click to enlarge)

STORYLINE: Dr. Seojin. A face that wore the sterile ambition of a man who catalogued patients as puzzles, spoke into his datapad without once meeting Minjo’s eyes. His voice was clipped, impersonal, like a technician reading a broken instrument.

“Case of Yoon Jihoon. Witnessed public combustion, presumed fourth-degree photothermal trauma. Current damage consistent with augment rejection cascade. Recommend immediate transfer to a private facility for liability containment.”

“Absolutely not.” Minjo was to her feet in an instant, brandishing the digital authority of her guardianship like a blade. “You can submit your proposal, and the name of that private facility, in writing. I will evaluate it.”

A flash of irritation crossed the doctor's polished features. He fled the room muttering a string of medical jargon that sounded suspiciously like insults.

The doctors were a problem, vultures in clean lab coats. Minjo watched them all with the predatory stillness of a gatekeeper, scanning their credentials and dismissing anyone with a whiff of black-market biotech or, worse, GIN AESTHETICA™. Paranoia was a logical response. She would not let Dr. Ginerva’s creatures finish what they had begun.

The world shrank to the size of the room. Jihoon lay suspended inside a sealed therapeutic tank, -- a glass coffin filled with a shimmering, oxygenated biogel. Wrapped head to toe in white smart-bandages, he looked almost serene; the only other presences were the soft blink of the vitals monitor and Minjo, keeping a solitary vigil.

The university had expelled him. While she packed his life into boxes —textbooks, anime posters—with a cold, methodical fury.

Days acquired a grim rhythm: monitor the tank, cross-reference charts, keep the journal. Each night she performed a private, clinical ritual. With wire clippers from her robotics kit she snipped the glossy black claws that pushed through the bandages. The sharp snap echoed in the quiet. Then she placed the jagged fragments of obsidian-like keratin into a specimen vial, labeled it, then added it to the macabre collection in her diagnostic kit.

Guilt was not a variable; it was a constant, an acid that corroded logic. The memory of the baseball game was an ache that never faded. He had trusted her, and she, in her clinical arrogance, had armed him with nothing more than cheap sunscreen against a star. It was his scream—a sound she heard every time she closed her eyes. In that final, agonizing moment, it was her name he had shrieked, a hand reaching for her through the flames, pleading, "Save me."

A single, hot tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away with an angry, impatient swipe of her sleeve before turning back to her journal. 

The blood transfusions were the strangest variable. The bags of synthetic O-negative would simply… vanish. In her journal, beneath a string of complex equations, Minjo wrote three words and circled them until the pen tore the page: ...Signs of Vampirism?


When a new surgical team scheduled an amputation for his arms, Minjo refused. She made them unwrap the limbs. The room fell silent. The flesh beneath was not carbonized, but a latticework of raw, pink scars over newly formed tissue. Damaged, yes. Horrifically so. But healing.

With a sigh, she sank back in the stiff hospital chair. Her gaze settled on a sketch of the mysterious Black Snakeskin Box surrounded by question marks. It had been hidden under the floorboards of Jihoon's bedroom, a secret he hid above all others. Why? Stranger still, when she opened it, the contents of an exotic pricey sunscreen disappeared, and in its place materialized a note, "Happy now, Bitch?"

Later that night, a woman she didn't recognize approached. She was dressed more like an intern than a nurse, and she moved with upbeat attitude that was more unnerving than comforting. A clinical facemask obscured her mouth, but her eyes—obvious cybernetic models—crinkled with a practiced warmth.

"Oh you poor thing. Have you been here all day? You look like you're about to fall over," she said, her voice a low, soothing hum.

Minjo’s internal database of hospital staff came up empty for her half covered face.

The nurse chuckled, a low, soothing hum. “It’s understandable. I was at that game too," she confessed, her voice dropping conspiratorially. "I don't believe a word they're saying about him. He's the victim here. You are a good girlfriend to him.” She placed a steaming cup in Minjo’s hands. “But you need to care for yourself too. Here, Chamomile. It will help you get some real rest."

Minjo’s analytical mind should have dissected the gesture, but her defenses were worn to nothing. For the first time, someone saw her pain.

The tea was warm and sweet. She drank it down, and a thick, dreamless curtain fell with astonishing speed. Outside the hospital, the street erupted into a symphony of chaos, screaming with sirens and the sounds of a violent chase, but Minjo was already gone, lost in a slumber so profound it felt less like rest and more like a system shutdown. She was too tired to care, and for the first time in a month, she did not dream of fire.

A soft knock pulled her from the depths. Minjo blinked, the grey morning light feeling abrasive and alien. Jihoon's three closest friends, Echo, Ghost, and Plague, stood in the doorway, their arms laden with cheap flowers and well loved retro game cartridges.

Echo opened her mouth to speak, but her eyes darted past Minjo. “Where’s Jihoon?”

Panic seized her. The glass coffin was empty.

She bolted to the nurses' station. “Yoon Jihoon,” she demanded. “Where is he?”

The admitting nurse, a woman with a practiced smile, tapped at her console. “Mr. Yoon was discharged late last night into the care of his legal guardian.”

“Impossible,” Minjo’s voice rose. “His parents are dead. I’m his medical proxy.”

“The paperwork is all in order.” The nurse swiveled her monitor around. On the signature line was a name that felt like a curse: Dr. Lucien Ginerva.

“That’s forged,” Minjo choked out.

“I assure you, a high-ranking officer verified everything.” She pulled up the security footage.

The timestamp read 2:17 AM. A towering, broad-shouldered police officer stood beside MasterGin. Between them Jihoon, still wrapped in bandages, was wheeled out on a gurney. Gone.

Echo gasped, pointing at the screen. "That's him! The officer from the crash!"

A wave of dizziness washed over Minjo. Her gaze fell on the half-empty cup. Drugged. The thought wasn't a question; it was a diagnosis. The ice in her gut flash-froze into white-hot, analytical fury. They had treated her like an obstacle. They would find she was a problem that fought back.

"Ghost, Echo, Plague," she commanded, her voice cutting through the sterile air. "Come with me. I have something to show you."


It's time to say goodbye to this round of CyberFair, and Season 2 of Escape from Club Apophis. Yes, I know I said there would be no more posts for CF, but I had a burning need to tell more story and show more things. So BONUS post! Wooo! *throws confetti*  The season finale mostly wraps up the journey to unite Snow White / Jihoon's rescue team, the 7 dwarfs: Lisa Liemawr is Happy, Kyle is Grumpy, Kyra is Sleepy, Plague is Sneezy, Echo is Dopey, and Ghost is Bashful.

For the Nurse Intern's look I used the AsteroidBox Mia outfit. It has a rich hud of colors and PBR options. The pBR version has glow LED elements.   ...The perfect hair for young nurse is the Echo hair by Sintiklia. There are also Cyber bunny ears in the pack, and each texture hud has a lot of color options.   ...The striking cybernetic blue eyes are Nyxa by Euphoric.  The LED body lines at Justice by Abyssal. The pack comes with multiple colors and opacity BOM tattoos, applier to create shine material, and lights to best to show off the effect.   ...Supplying the Medical needs are The Kataonik Nurse hat tinted black, Gehenna's stethoscope, Mask by Violetility, latex gloves by Antaya, and the frightening Mad Doctor's Equipment by Cabalpier.   


On her, The Suspicious Nurse Paine:
Outfit: AsteroidBox Mia Outfit - LaraX, black [mesh](CyberFair)(499L)
Hair: Sintiklia Echo head 1 Fitted, blond [mesh](CyberFair)(150L)
Skin: VOGLIA ELEKTRA Skin, EvoX, Icy With Brows [BOM](CyberFair)(699L)
Eyes: EUPHORIC Nyxa ~[BOM] #08[mesh](CyberFair)(380L)
Tattoo/Shine: ABYSSAL JUSTICE CYBERTECH [BOM, Applier]
Syringe, bone saw: CABALPIER Mad Doctor's Equipment - Bundle [mesh]
Hat: katat0nik (W) Nurse Hat for Apron Dress [mesh]
Stethoscope: Gehenna ::G:: Stethoscope
Mask: Violetility Nurse Feelgood Mask [mesh]
Head, eyes: LeLUTKA lel EvoX LILLY 3.1 [mesh](3990L)
Body: Maitreya Mesh Body Lara [mesh](2750L)
Pose: Poseidon Poses Nightmare Slasher
...Thanks to my blogger bat buddy Aarya for letting me cosplay her once more for the blog. 

Location:
Insilco

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