Showing posts with label Engine Room. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Engine Room. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 14, 2026

Engine Room: The Masquerade (Escape from Club Apophis, 40)

(click to enlarge)

STORYLINE:   

A damaged cybernetic cheerleader in a Zone that ate power like a starving beast ate flesh. Surrounded by monsters. One of them, for some reason, wanted to help her. Right.

"This will never work," Kyra whispered, her voice fractured by digital static.

The masquerade dress she wore was a masterpiece. Spun from dark velvet and rich red silk, it was Zone aristocracy chic. The kind of outfit that cost more than a year’s tuition and existed purely to be seen. But she had no business being in Monstrum Haute Couture.

She sat rigidly in the makeshift dressing room behind the auction block, her internal processors whirring a frantic, broken rhythm. A sharp click echoed in her auditory sensors, followed by a sickening, warm slide. A black bloom of hydraulic fluid spread through the velvet, warm and slow at her hip.

The Master of Ceremonies’ voice boomed over the loudspeakers as he made disgusting jokes about devouring humans.

She felt like she might vomit oil.

"Romance, please. I don’t like this. We need to hide. Go underground, or..." She tried to pull the heavy fabric away, but her arms barely lifted. A warning pulse fired through her left arm. Low power. Critical.

Romance knelt before her, immaculate in a pale pink cavalier suit that caught the dim light like a blushing cheek. He didn't look at the stain. He stopped fussing over the high collar that hid her exposed ports and dying wires.

“Kyra,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate like a weaponized melody. "Your friends tripped the alarm. Enforcers are swarming everywhere. There is no time to delay." He glanced toward the chaotic glare of the auction plaza beyond the curtain. "There is only one way out now. Through the front door."

Kyra squeezed her eyes shut. Where was Lisa? For the first time in her life, she was about to do something outrageous, and Lisa wasn't there to pump up her confidence. But through the fear, she heard her best friend's voice anyway, clear as a recording: You got this, Ky! Look like you belong. Look bored and jaded, like you’ve seen it all before. You own every room you walk into.

Kyra lifted her chin. “No. I’m not walking on stage until you tell me why you’re helping me.”

Romance’s eyes widened. He glanced left and right and then leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “I am a moth to your flame. Let me care for you.”

She didn’t believe his words. How could she?

“Don’t say things you don’t mean. You don’t even know me!” she fired back.

Romance dropped to his knees, almost begging. He took both of her cold metal hands into his. “I do know you. I need you.”

The words shot through her like a jolt of power.

“How? Why?" she asked softly.

Romance's head dropped. “This is not a good time to discuss this.”

“It’s the only time.”

He looked back up at her, his demonic eyes blazing with gold fire. “I reap souls,” he said quietly. “But you remember what I was before that.”

“A lot of people remember you. How do you know my memories?”

Romance’s shoulders drooped. He exhaled slowly. “You were dying. The smell of a soul leaking away drew me.” He closed his eyes and deeply inhaled, savoring the moment once more. “I can see your future too, in a way. I just... don’t understand it.”

He held her gaze.

“You’re human. But you will not die. Not today. Not tomorrow.”

A woman screamed in the distance. A chill crept into her circuits.

“Not ever.”

His voice softened, almost breaking, as he looked away. “Do you know what it’s like... to stand before something you could never destroy?”

She considered his words. Finally, the truth. Strange as it was.

She fixed her expression into something that approximated aristocratic boredom. “Ready."

Romance’s eyes snapped to her, a dazzling grin growing on his face. “You look so beautiful right now.”

For a second, she almost believed him. Not because it was true. Because he said it like it was.

He leaned in close. She felt the ghost of his lips press hard against her metal cheek. Shame and ache flashed through her. She wasn’t a woman, wasn’t flesh, wasn’t warm. And yet something in her system misfired anyway. A phantom response with no source code.

The Master of Ceremonies announced Romance as the honored Big Spender, making an off-color joke advising the crowd to watch out: Romance might outbid them for the next least desirable human.

The crowd laughed.

Kyra kept her head held high and did not react. She leaned against Romance for support as they emerged into the limelight of The Pen.

He lifted her off the ground, spinning her. The gown twirled in the air dramatically to applause.

For a moment, she forgot she couldn’t stand on her own. Forgot the weight of failing systems. Forgot where she was. His hand at her back was steady. Certain. She leaned into it. Just for a second. Long enough to forget she didn’t trust him. Long enough to want to.

But it was a grotesque theater of monsters masquerading as civilized. The auction was in full swing. Hunger pressed in from every direction, dressed in silk and velvet, buyers gliding through aisles of glass cages like they were browsing fabrics.

Romance guided her off the stage with the practiced ease of a VIP who could easily own the room. His charisma was undeniable. But Kyra had spent her whole life paying attention to the people next to her. His breathing didn’t match his smile. He needed her to exist. He needed her to stay by his side. His words echoed in her ear.

Outside, the Zone air pressed against The Pen, thick and wrong. A sleek, obsidian hovercar bearing the devil heart logo idled just past the heavy iron gates. Romance guided her into the plush interior. Kyra sank into the seat, leaving another smear of oil on the pristine leather.

Before she could apologize, the world narrowed to a single figure. An Enforcer loomed in the driver's side window, large and armored in black. The window lowered, letting in the sharp, chemical stench of burnt circuitry and leaking oil.

"Unmarked cargo," the Enforcer growled, his nose wrinkling in disgust as he eyed the velvet dress. “And she’s leaking. State your business."

Kyra's internal cooling fans spun into overdrive.

Romance didn't flinch. He sighed with the perfect air of an inconvenienced aristocrat and produced his halo-pad, tapping it twice. MasterGin's voice, laced with theatrical, venomous contempt, poured into the cabin like poison:

"Get this scrap metal out of my pristine suite before it stains the floor."

Kyra stiffened when she heard herself dismissed and described as scrap metal by the legend who was supposed to save her life.

“You heard the man. He wants her gone.”

The Enforcer huffed, clearly no fan of MasterGin. He stepped back and waved them through. "Proceed."

The Enforcers parted. Ghouls beyond the gate caught in the headlights, sniffing the air in excitement as their giant bat wings beat against the smog.

“Driver, turn on the shields,” Romance commanded.

The Automated Assistant electrified the car’s shell. “Yes, Master Romance. Where to?”

“Get us out of the Zone, but fly casually. Don’t attract any attention.”

The hovercar lurched forward, leaving the fog. Monsters jumped on the car, shrieking as the electric shield threw them back into the dark.

Kyra jumped, her hand tightening around Romance’s.

He looked over at her, highly amused, and squeezed back. “I can’t believe that worked. Sorry you had to hear that.”

He didn't even spare a glance for the beasts scraping at the roof and thumping on the hood. His attention was locked onto her, as if she were the only thing in the world.

She felt the heat of his golden gaze sinking into her wiring. “You’re so handsome, it should be illegal.” The words left before she could catch them. She almost winced. Like she’d handed him something sharp and personal.

As the invisible boundary of the Forbidden Zone slipped past them, the suffocating pressure in the air vanished.

A tingle started in her fingertips. A current, clean and sharp, completely unlike the sludgy, cursed energy she'd been running on in the Zone. It flowed down her spine. Then her legs. Like a system rebooting after a hard shutdown, everything came back online at once.

The oppressive hum of the Zone vanished like a speaker switch flipped.

Kyra gasped, the sound turning into a bright, undignified laugh. Her systems roared to life. Heat surged through her chest. Lights powered back on, racing up and down her shell.

Without thinking, she tore the cursed devil-heart battery pack from her side. It came free with a wet metallic sound. She hurled it, watching it spark and die.

The battery pack rolled to a stop at Romance’s feet, its devil heart logo facing up.

“If I had a choice, I would never set foot in that hellhole again,” Kyra declared.

Romance blinked, startled. "Kyra?”

She was already moving. Her body found angles it hadn't reached in months, her limbs articulating at ranges that broke human limits, transforming her into a sleek, spider-like shape of fluid cybernetic agility.

She vaulted directly over the console and slid into the driver's seat. Both hands and her one functional leg found the controls simultaneously.

“Disengage autopilot,” she commanded, and slammed the pedal.

The hovercar tore forward at breakneck speed. Romance was thrown backward, shrieking in genuine, unbefitting terror as the g-force hit him.

His composure shattered so easily. She hadn’t expected that. It tightened something in her chest she didn’t have a name for. His panic sent a thrilling rush through her circuits.

She laughed harder, pushing the hovercar faster than necessary. Romance only knew her as a broken, dying doll, but she was an athlete, a cat burglar, and a machine enhanced beyond human limitation. She pulled the vehicle into a screaming barrel roll just to hear his beautiful screams again.

“STOP!” Romance yelled, pressing himself against the door.

She flipped the car into a loop, gravity snapping hard against them.

"I AM BEGGING YOU!"

She laughed in pure joy.

Romance was pressed against the far door, clutching his chest and breathing in fast, panicked gasps. His immaculate outfit was disheveled, his careful composure completely destroyed.

Eventually, she leveled out, mostly because her chassis was sending her excited warnings about structural stress. It would be embarrassing to survive the Forbidden Zone only to shake herself apart on the highway.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” She winked playfully at him in the rearview mirror.

She caught him staring at her reflection.

"What?" She smiled, knowing she had shocked him.

"Nothing," he said. "You're just different outside the Zone."

"Better or worse?"

He considered this with genuine seriousness. "More," he said finally. "Just more."

"Romance. Is everything okay?"

"No," he said quietly.

He stared out the window at the city scrolling past. All that performance was absent. He looked drained. He looked, she realized, like someone who had been holding something very heavy for a very long time and had just discovered he might be able to put it down.

He picked up the discarded battery pack with the devil heart logo on it. "You still need me," he said in a very small voice. "To pay for your cybernetics doctor."

Kyra smiled at the monster who had saved her life, not once, not twice, but three times. “You did promise to give me flesh. I’m totally going to hold you to it.”

He sighed, not hiding his disappointment. “One way or another.”

“What other way is there besides the best cybernetics doctor money can buy? I could look human again, with a fleshy outside shell and all.”

“It’s just,” his voice trailed off. “I thought you would choose to be like me. A Jeoseung Saja. And we would be together forever.”

"You’re adorable when you pout,” she said, softer than she meant to.

He looked up, his golden eyes wide.

"I'm not leaving you, silly.” She shifted her focus ahead. “Why would I? Prince Charming of my dreams says he needs me.”

Romance didn’t answer. He looked like he wanted to say something.

The city lights slid across his face in silence.

She gunned the hovercar forward as the glittering towers of Pangyo Techno Valley loomed ahead.

His breath fogged the glass.

He began to trace a heart in it.

“I saw Lisa.”

Kyra froze.

“It was when you were powered down at the Clinic. Disassembled. She was upset. She didn’t want to leave you, but the other students forced her to flee.”

If Kyra could cry, her vision would have blurred.

“I do admire the devotion you two share. But I would also like to point out, Lisa has a larger circle of friends now, and they are surviving remarkably well. The Mute One seems especially smitten with her. I can tell these things. Maybe when this is over, you should consider giving her space.”

The tech district opened up ahead of them, indifferent and pristine, completely unaware of everything that had happened in the Forbidden Zone.

Kyra’s auditory sensors processed Romance’s words, turning them over and over like a corrupted file. Forced her to flee. A larger circle of friends. Smitten. Give her space.

The words were precision strikes.

She looked down at her hands resting on the steering console. The towering neon advertisements of Pangyo Techno Valley reflected off her polished metal knuckles in harsh streaks of cyan and magenta. She was a machine of wonders. Fast. Powerful. Resilient.

But her chest ached with a phantom human pain.

Lisa had been her gravity for her entire life. To picture Lisa running, surviving, and moving on with a new team while Kyra lay dissected on a cold clinic table was a special kind of agony.

Kyra glanced at the rearview mirror. Romance was watching her in the dark. His golden eyes were calm. Patient.

A week ago, the old Kyra would have panicked. She would have cried and clung to him, desperate for his reassurance.

Instead, Kyra tightened her grip on the steering wheel. She didn’t look at him again. She knew if she did, she might hesitate. And hesitation, around him, felt like the beginning of something she wouldn’t be able to stop.

The reinforced synthetic leather groaned loudly under her mechanical strength. The raw, buzzing current of her fully charged battery hummed in her synthetic veins.

"I appreciate the update," Kyra said. Her voice was perfectly smooth, completely stripped of all digital static.

Romance blinked. The slight, victorious curve of his mouth faltered. “Are you not upset?"

“Lisa is alive,” Kyra said. “That’s what matters.”

She pushed the throttle forward. The city swallowed them whole.

Silence stretched.

"I'm going to need analog battery backup," she added. "Something the Zone can't eat."

Romance shifted behind her. "Kyra."

"You saved me." Her grip tightened. The leather creaked. "So now I'm a problem."

She glanced at him in the mirror. Just once.

"I'm going to save Lisa. And then I'll figure out what to do about you."

Romance stilled. Something like delight crossed his face. Something like fear.

Then a warning light she didn't recognize flared in her HUD.

An empty, starving ache hollowed out her left hip where the battery used to sit.

Her left leg seized.

The hovercar coasted.

Romance was beside her before she could speak. He pressed a chip, its devil heart logo facing up, into the port at her hip. The lights steadied.

He was inches from her face. He didn't say anything.

He didn't need to.

Kyra looked at the chip. At the logo. At his face.

She understood.

"You may have left the Forbidden Zone," he said finally. "But it didn't leave you."

She sat very still.

Outside, Neu Seoul kept glowing. Indifferent. Waiting.




This was a fun image to make, with such beautiful outfits and skins at the current round of the Engine Room.   ...On Romance is the flashy Cavalier outfit by toksik. It comes with fits for multiple mesh bodies, male and female. Top is jacket and shirt, and the bottom is pants and boots. Single colors or fatpack.   ...He is wearing the Lucian hair by RavenBell. It's unrigged and editable for the perfect fit, includes mirror options and separate bangs. I used the fantasy color hud.  ....From Illusions is the Cigno Curia Mask. It comes with a texture hud, male and female fits, PBR, and its unrigged and mod to adjust for the best fit.   ....On Kyra is the elegant Machina NOVA gold skin texture with optional overlays. The skin set includes many metallics tones, including Halo.   ....From BearCat.Egg is the gorgeous Carni Hat. It comes with a detailed hud to change its textures, an optional version without the chin ribbons, and a doll face mask for eyes and lips. I used the eyes only. This doll mask is also available as a free gift at the Engine Room. its mod so you can adjust it for the best fit.   ....From MDN is another stunning outfit, this time with a pirate style, -- the Ironlace Dress. The dress and chest strap have PBR and the megapack includes many texture options. I love the stripped ones!   ...Adding another layer of elegance is the Steam Aurelia Collar from Silvery K. It comes with a texture hud to adjust its colors. It comes with rigged and unrigged versions.   ....Seen in the full character shot below is abeabi's AB54 heels. It includes many texture options, including stripes that match well with the MDN dress,   ....Providing the perfect ambience is the Spires Society's The Sanctuary of Light. 

On him, DJ Romance:
Top: toksik - Cavalier, Legacy M, fatpack[mesh](Engine Room)(800L)
Mask: Illusions - Cigno Curia Mask (m)[mesh](Engine Room)(325L)
Hair: RavenBell - Lucien Hair, Fantasy [mesh](Engine Room)(350L)
Earring: RavenBell - Starlit Earrings [Moonlit] [mesh](350L)
Claws: L'Emporio&PL - Oblio Vampire Claws male [mesh](350L)
Rings: MANDALA - Sinra Rings season-3-HD, Legacy M [mesh]
Tattoos: HISS - PATTERNS FACE ROMANCE [BOM](250L)
Head: LeLUTKA - Kane Evolution [mesh](3990L)
Body: TheShops - [BODY] Athletic Meshbody (Legacy)(m) (1.7.1) [mesh](5000L)
Poses: Secret Poses - SP - Enchanted

On Her, Kyra:
Hat, mask: BEARCAT.EGG - Carni Hat, fatpack [mesh](Engine Room)(500L)
Dress: MDN - Ironlace Dress, megapack (Legacy F) [mesh](Engine Room)(1751L)
Collar: Silvery K - Steam Aurelia, Collar [mesh](Engine Room)(280L)
Shoes: abeabi - AB54 fatpack, Legacy F, fatpack [mesh](Engine Room)(1599L)
Gloves: Emotional Circus - Romantic Lace Gloves, black [BOM](Engine Room)(249L)
Skin, tattoos: SOMEONE - Machina NOVA, Gold [mesh](Engine Room)(1000L)
Eyes: SOMEONE - Infected Eyes 3, Blood [BOM]
Head, eyes: LeLUTKA lel EvoX LILLY 3.1 [mesh](3990L)

Setting:
Set: Spires Society - The Sanctuary of Light [mesh]

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




Tuesday, April 7, 2026

Engine Room: The Jellyfish Man (Escape from Club Apophis, 39)

(click to enlarge)


STORYLINE:    This was a heist. 

Which meant, statistically speaking, Plague was either about to become a legend, or a cautionary tale with excellent hair.

Finally, he was inside MasterGin’s clinic, the Fort Knox of DNA rewrite voodoo, and he, the Biohacker of Jae Won University, was about to steal it. 

In and out. Cure Jihoon. Fix himself. Save the world. In that order. …More or less. 

And if history wanted to throw in fame and glory, he wasn’t going to argue.

He came prepared. His parents thought that six-thousand-credit charge was for lab equipment. Please. Six thousand credits didn’t buy microscopes. It bought bad decisions with excellent specs.

In this case: a nanotech cloak blanket. Perfect for black ops. Terrible for subtle life choices. The enforcers hadn’t seen him at all. They were too busy chasing Kyle, Minjo, Echo, and Lisa.

Unlike them, he actually knew what to look for. Infrastructure. More specifically, signs of a negative pressure room.

He darted down another hallway, deeper into the labyrinth. 

The Plastic Surgery Clinic wasn’t a clinic at all. More like a villain origin story with a lobby. Polished floors, museum lighting, the kind of place where ethics go to get redesigned. He had no time to marvel at billion-dollar artwork, which genuinely pained him. The clock was ticking.

He took a stairwell downwards. Posh tunnels gave way to older tunnels, gleaming marble replaced by cement with all the charm of a decaying bomb shelter.

His foot hit water. The splash cracked through the hallway like a jump scare with no soundtrack to soften it.

Shit. He glanced around.

The corridor held its breath. So did he.

The pool of water he was standing in had a faint bioluminescence glow. It had leaked from under a sealed door with lots of unfriendly symbols that all translated, across every language known to man, into one simple message: ‘Do not be the idiot who opens this door.’

Jackpot.

He licked his lips. He could almost taste that Nobel Prize.

He produced a bypass kit, popped in a cursed energy battery courtesy of Sophia, and went to work on the door panel. The lock mechanism, however, was old. Older than he expected. Not smart-lock. Analog. Physical tumblers.

He switched tools. His hands steady, remembering things his formal education hadn't taught him, like how to pick a school locker.

Click.

The door swung open as if moved by an unseen hand.

Very Haunted House. Three stars. Too cliché.

The dark laboratory was state-of-the-art… if the state in question was 1960s and deeply unethical. The air around him felt damp, like breathing through someone else’s lungs. The smell hit next. Formaldehyde. And something that had been alive too long. The equipment bore the heavy scars of relentless use. His fingers touched a keyboard with the characters of “A” and “S” completely worn down.

From tanks holding something segmented and glowing, a sickening green light cast shadows on the walls as it writhed.

Not touching that. Not even academically.

He pulled off the cloak and paused at an old-school computer. The black DOS screen, with a single lime green blinking box, waited for him to type code.

…Right. He wasn’t that kind of nerd. Filing cabinet it was.

Drawers. Stacks. Paper everywhere. Useless. Too slow. He suddenly missed computers.

Something moved behind him. Not a step. Not a breath. …a slosh.

Shit. Please don’t be something glowing and legally classified as ‘should not have legs.’

He turned, looking for anything slithering.

Two transparent feet, outlined in a faint glow, stood directly behind him. A trail of wet footsteps led back to a massive, bubbling tank.

His heart stopped. Fantastic. Cardiac arrest in a haunted aquarium.

His gaze tracked slowly up.

A translucent man, built of something like jellyfish flesh, stared right at him. “Who are you?” he asked in a gurgling human voice.

Not a hologram. Not a projection. The nightmare was… wet.

Plague stared at his transparent body as if hypnotized. He could see liquids moving through his veins. Faint electrical sparks across the transparent mass of his brain.

“Forgive me,” the Jellyfish Man said. He put on a white lab coat, gloves, and sprinkled white powder over his head, until it resembled a sculpture. “I get so few visitors here. I forgot my manners.”

Of course he had a lab coat. Of course the nightmare had dress code compliance.

“I’ve seen this movie before.” Plague willed his voice to sound steady. “The Invisible Man, 1933. Overrated.”

The Jellyfish Man extended a gloved hand, “I’m Dr. Hoshu Tanaka.”

Plague shook his head in disbelief. Dr. Hoshu Tanaka. Founding father of DNA rewrite research. The man who wrote the rules, and then vanished from the game entirely.

“No, you’re not.” He switched to Japanese. “Dr. Tanaka died a long time ago.”

The Jellyfish Man nodded his head and sat down on a stool. “I see. You know who I am. You are sneaking around. You have a kit for breaking into secure places. That means you’re here for only one thing, …to steal my research.”

Plague took two steps back, subtly checking the seals of the bio-containment suit. The air felt wrong. Too thick. Like he’d already been breathing it too long.

“No, I’m just…” he gestured vaguely “… a low-paid, highly under-appreciated intern. You’d be amazed what HR lets through.”

“You are a terrible liar,” Dr. Tanaka chuckled. “You are aware,” he said gently, pointing to the open door, “That warning was mine. I put it there. It was not a decoration.”

Plague continued to back away. “If you touch me, I get infected right? Be honest. Are you venomous, contagious, or… both?”

“Contact transmission. Airborne spores require a 10-minute exposure.” Dr. Tanaka nodded and began to text on a halo pad, “I am writing Nurse Paine to let her know I am not to be disturbed for the rest of the evening.” He touched a button on an old control panel. The door closed and sealed back into place. “…at least from threats outside.”

Sweat dripped down Plague’s back.

Dr. Tanaka set the pad down and focused on him. Not like a person. Like data.

“Now,” he said, folding his hands, “Let us begin a fair trade of information. Tell me who you are and how you know my name. Then I might tell you where the decontamination unit is.”

Plague's eyes swept the room for another exit. Condensation dripped down the glass of a nearby pod. When he neared it, a pale worm, thick as his wrist, struck the glass with a sound like a wet slap. It gave him flashbacks to things he would absolutely deny ever reading.

Plague’s shoulders sagged. He turned back to the aquarium's sole resident, “The name’s Plague.” He gave a small shrug. “Marketing.”

“That’s not a name. Your only way out is a fair trade of information.”

Plague paused for a long while, studying the powder-covered face. He resembled Dr. Tanaka. Or something that used to be him.

Plague kept a safe distance from everything that glowed.

“All right then," he said, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his bio-containment suit. “We may or may not have a few things in common. But that depends on how you became transparent. You did a bio-hack on yourself?”

Dr. Tanaka’s eyebrow raised. He looked at the suit for a long moment. “I see. You are a DNA Hacker.” He pointed to Plague’s chest. “Experimenting on yourself was foolish. And now you are here to steal my technology to save yourself. Am I right?”

Plague chuckled and buttoned up. “Righteous indignation. So then. Your transparent-hood was an accident. Spores or contact?” His eyes swept the lab. All those glowing things. All of them eager to be near him.

“Worse,” Dr. Tanaka’s voice dropped. His gaze lowered.

A chill raced across Plague.

The lab hummed around them. Neither moved.

Dr. Tanaka then stood and glanced at the largest tank. “I live mostly in that tank now. I killed the parasite. Eventually. Before it could finish rewriting my DNA… before my mind was lost. But I exist like this now. Something inhuman. I can never go home. I can never see my wife and child. It’s better they believe what the world believes.”

Plague’s heart quivered. His hands went still. He looked at the large tank. Then at his own chest where the bio-containment suit pressed against his ribs.

“My work is what remains of me now,” the Doctor continued. “I chose to give my tragedy meaning by understanding how the creature rewrites its host’s DNA without rejection.”

“How long ago?” Plague's voice cracked on the question. He cleared his throat. “How long ago did you solve it?”

The lab answered for him. Nothing.

Plague studied the tanks. The Doctor. The powdered coat. The worn-down keyboard keys. Years of research, typed by hands that were no longer hands.

"That's how MasterGin's plastic surgery works, isn't it? MasterGin isn't reshaping people's bodies with surgery, drugs, or augments. He's infecting them with these... things, then altering them while their bodies are malleable. Your research is the off switch, stopping the process before they turn into monsters.”

Dr. Tanaka pointed to the far corner. “The decontamination unit is over there. You have about 5 minutes left before infection.”

Plague bolted towards the unit, then turned back to look at the Doctor. “I could get your life’s work out there, in the real world. Full credit for your discovery. I swear it. Your sacrifice…” His throat became tight. “I mean, your work should be out there helping people. Not locked in here being used by monsters.” He only noticed the tears when they hit his chin.

Dr. Tanaka’s expression was unreadable. “Three minutes. Or this conversation was meaningless.”

“I’ll come back for you.” Plague turned and ran.

He hit the decon unit at full speed.

An automated voice chimed overhead, “Decontamination Process initiated.”

The doors air-locked around him as he quickly stripped down to bare skin.

Through the glass, the Doctor studied what the suit had been hiding, his grotesque deformities. He didn't look away as a cloud of formaldehyde and chemicals enveloped Plague.

When the cycle had finally ended, Plague quickly pulled on his sterilized bio-containment suit and glanced outside. The Doctor had already submerged in his tank.

A green light pulsed through the dissipating haze. He stepped closer and saw a small decontamination transfer unit mounted on the wall, designed to safely move items from the lab to the outside. The case was bathed in just as many chemicals as he was, traces of haze still swirled around it.

He opened the hatch. Inside were several items. A gold VIP serpent brooch. He’d seen that on Nurse Paine’s collar. VIP clearance. A way out. And that wasn’t the only surprising thing. There was a meticulously pre-packed decontamination travel kit. Absurdly so, given the lab had just let him walk in with a school locker pick. Was this meant for Tanaka? An escape that never happened? He didn't have time to understand all of it. More items in the case were a data chip and an ornate gilded crystal bottle labeled GIN AESTHETICA™. The Doctor's formula. Someone else's logo. Inside, a soft blue glowing lotion simmered, smelling faintly of antiseptic and something he couldn't classify.

There was a note in precise handwriting: ‘For the one who returns.’

Plague stared at it.

He quickly pocketed the brooch, sealed the case, and darted for the VIP tunnels without looking back.



This post was inspired by my ongoing series, and super cool mad lab themed items at The Engine Room.   From Somnium is the Scientist's Coat. The Fatpack has a hud to change textures for the coat, shirt, and tie. All textures are PBR with a latex look, handy for dealing with messy creatures. lol.  ...From DeadBoy is 8 fingered stabby gloves, -- the Toxic Touch Gloves, for men and women. It comes with a hud to change the latex glove color, straps, and suspicious liquids in the syringe.   ...From NI.JI are the Rimless Glasses.  These are PBR glasses with many texture options for the lens and frame. It's mod, so you can scale and position for the perfect fit.   ...From Waffle Science Lab is the Artificial Mastermind consoles. I love these things. It has that retro NASA vibe to me. Just touch the consoles to change the metal color, panel, and base colors. They are mod, so you can move and scale how you like.   ... From Dirty Rat is the Manipulator sculpture, perfect for the desk of any serious mad scientist.   ...From ND Design is build from the recent Cyber Fair. It's two stories with stacks of mainframes, tanks with aliens, and a hatch that opens. It comes with a Rez box. The set is mod so you can move things around or tint. I created a bit more of a military lab look with tints, and a metal PBR floor.


On him, Plague:
Outfit:  SOMNIUM - Scientist's Coat - Fat Pack - Legacy M/A PBR [mesh](Engine Room)(2500L)
Glasses: NI.JU - Rimless Glasses [mesh](Engine Room)(325L)
Gloves: The DeadBoy - Toxic Touch Gloves (Legacy M) [mesh](Engine Room)(699L)
Scar: Cubic Cherry - Decay [BOM, Materials]
Makeup: maledictus - Lacrimosa, red [BOM]
Tattoo: Vae Victis Pillar of Inun EvoX [BOM]
Hair: Dura - U122 -A: Men's [mesh]
Head: LeLUTKA - Kane Evolution [mesh](3990L)
Body: TheShops [BODY] Athletic Meshbody (Legacy)(m) (1.7.1) [mesh](5000L)

Setting:
Control room panels: Waffle Science Lab - Artificial Mastermind [mesh](Engine Room)(750L)
Sculpture: Dirty Rat - Manipulator [mesh](Engine Room)(385L)
Set: NSDesign - NS Exolab [mesh]

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





Sunday, October 19, 2025

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

(click enlarge)

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.



Wednesday, October 15, 2025

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

(click to enlarge)

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.





Saturday, October 4, 2025

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 Finger[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.