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STORYLINE: Minjo’s Lab, Old Seoul, 5:00 PM.
Plague pushed open the heavy steel doors of Minjo’s workshop. The place was supposed to be the wholesome academic environment his parents were paying for, but right now it was a complete zoo. He braced himself for the usual sterile, hyper-organized hum of intellectual dominance. Instead, he walked straight into a full-scale domestic mutiny.
“Okay, what did you animals do while I was gone?” Plague muttered, dropping an overloaded duffle bag of provisions onto the nearest stainless-steel workbench.
Minjo’s automated maintenance bots had completely lost their minds. Two glowing Bug Lights darted through the rafters like caffeinated hornets, trailing ozone sparks and emitting rude digital squawks incessantly. Worse yet, the experimental Mechanical Daisy had snapped the lock on its terrarium. It uprooted its titanium stem and stomped across the floor tiles toward a pile of discarded snack wrappers.
As he passed the towering Chronal Resonance Viewer, he gave its colossal metal rings a cautious glance. It loomed over the center of the lab like a dormant titan, a stark reminder that his friends were still trapped inside the Forbidden Zone.
He cleared a corner of his desk, shoving aside a chaotic collage of research papers and receipts for a massive aquarium and bio-transport pod. On the wall beside his monitor hung a large, squeaky-clean whiteboard. Plague picked up a dry-erase marker and began to handwrite a To-Do List, complete with his own crude stick-figure illustrations:
Plague pushed open the heavy steel doors of Minjo’s workshop. The place was supposed to be the wholesome academic environment his parents were paying for, but right now it was a complete zoo. He braced himself for the usual sterile, hyper-organized hum of intellectual dominance. Instead, he walked straight into a full-scale domestic mutiny.
“Okay, what did you animals do while I was gone?” Plague muttered, dropping an overloaded duffle bag of provisions onto the nearest stainless-steel workbench.
Minjo’s automated maintenance bots had completely lost their minds. Two glowing Bug Lights darted through the rafters like caffeinated hornets, trailing ozone sparks and emitting rude digital squawks incessantly. Worse yet, the experimental Mechanical Daisy had snapped the lock on its terrarium. It uprooted its titanium stem and stomped across the floor tiles toward a pile of discarded snack wrappers.
As he passed the towering Chronal Resonance Viewer, he gave its colossal metal rings a cautious glance. It loomed over the center of the lab like a dormant titan, a stark reminder that his friends were still trapped inside the Forbidden Zone.
He cleared a corner of his desk, shoving aside a chaotic collage of research papers and receipts for a massive aquarium and bio-transport pod. On the wall beside his monitor hung a large, squeaky-clean whiteboard. Plague picked up a dry-erase marker and began to handwrite a To-Do List, complete with his own crude stick-figure illustrations:
1) Test Formula 1 & 2 (Drawing of two glowing blue bottles next to a twisting DNA helix)
Formula 1: MasterGin’s DNA Rewrite / Force ShiftFormula 2: Arrest Full-Body Metamorphosis2) Cure Jihoon (Drawing of a sleeping stick figure with bat wings and sharp fangs)
3) Rescue Dr. Tanaka (Drawing of Plague in a lab coat, frantically pushing a sealed bio-pod on wheels)4) Win Nobel Prize (Drawing of Plague high-fiving a giant jellyfish beneath the Nobel Prize crest)
Plague chuckled under his breath, capping the marker. The joke barely covered the nervous flutter in his chest.
He reached into his duffle and pulled out a hefty velvet-lined metal case brought back from Dr. Tanaka's underground lab. Ignoring the thick stack of dense research printouts and handwritten notes underneath, Plague bypassed the technical theory entirely and went straight for the prize. Impulsive? Absolutely.
He lifted out two gilded crystal bottles, each filled with liquid glowing a soft, bioluminescent blue.
The first bore a printed commercial label: GIN AESTHETICA™. Tanaka’s master formula for stopping DNA rewrite rejection, his life’s work repurposed into a weapon by MasterGin.
A nagging voice entered his mind. Minjo’s parting words echoed in his ears: “Jihoon first.”
“Sorry, Minjo. I have to know if it works.”
He pulled on a latex glove and unsealed the bottle. A cold, floral scent wafted up. He scooped a tiny dab of the glowing blue ointment onto his fingertip and approached the gothic freestanding mirror.
On his jawline sat an ugly weeping ulcer, a painful reminder of his failed back-alley CRISPR experiments. His attempt at Biohack Looksmaxing had turned into a living nightmare.
He clicked the timer on his stopwatch and smeared the glowing gel directly over the raw flesh.
A sharp, violent sting bit into his skin, like pouring concentrated lemon juice into an open wound. Plague hissed through his teeth, gripping the edges of the sink until his knuckles turned white.
He tracked the digital seconds ticking by. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Twenty.
Gradually, the burning sensation faded into a soothing, cool numb. Plague looked into the mirror and let out a soft sigh. The inflammation had subsided. The angry red edges had faded, and the damaged skin was beginning to close.
“Holy hell,” he breathed, a wide grin breaking across his face. “Tanaka, you absolute genius.”
Visual proof. It actually worked.
The triumphant smirk grew as he reached for the second bottle. This one was hand-labeled in precise Japanese calligraphy, stamped at the bottom with the red crest of Dr. Hoshu Tanaka: Formula to arrest DNA Rewrite.
Plague unzipped his bio-containment suit and peeled it back from his shoulder, exposing the left side of his chest over his lung.
Beneath his collarbone, the skin was semi-translucent with an oily sheen. Worse, a cluster of fleshy, feathery external gills, a nightmare leftover from his failed attempt to steal the axolotl’s regenerative powers, sprouted directly from his ribs. The surrounding tissue was raw and swollen, locked in a brutal war as his immune system violently rejected the amphibian mutation.
He scooped a generous portion of the second formula and rubbed it directly over the inflamed, translucent tissue.
He clicked his stopwatch and waited. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Half an hour.
Nothing happened. The gills remained swollen, angry, and raw.
His smile collapsed into a scowl. “Come on. Work.”
Frustrated, he reached back into the velvet case and pulled out Tanaka’s handwritten research notes, skimming the pages until his eyes locked onto an underlined paragraph.
“The arrest formula is context-dependent. To halt an active rewrite, the serum must be custom-synthesized using two distinct genetic markers: a pure baseline DNA sample from the host, and a pure DNA sample of the foreign contaminant.”
Plague blinked, processing the logic.
He stood up, walked over to a small terrarium on the side shelf, and tapped the glass. Inside, a cute, smiling albino axolotl blinked back at him lazily and ruffled its feathery pink gills.
“Sorry, buddy,” Plague said, pulling a sterile cotton swab from his pocket. “Your tissue-regrowth abilities are no longer required.”
He gently swabbed the inside of the creature’s mouth, transferred the sample into his benchtop centrifuge, and added his own archived, unmodified blood baseline. His custom-trained Biohack AI took over, mapping and comparing the two samples. He fed Dr. Tanaka’s Formula 2 into the AI, then did his own voodoo with the data before transferring the resulting formulation to the synthesizer. Within thirty minutes, the machine produced a tiny droplet of customized serum.
Plague applied the new mixture to his chest. This time, the reaction was instant. The fiery inflammation subsided as the genetic rewrite ground to a halt.
The extra gill tissue didn't magically vanish. It didn't dry up and fall off his body. No, his shame was permanent. But at least he wouldn't mutate further.
“Well, folks, I could always have a career in long-distance swimming.”
His recovery would take more work. The serum only worked on the surface. To treat an entire body, he needed a vaccine. After all, he didn’t want to burp bubbles at his parents while explaining how he spent a chunk of their fortune accidentally biohacking himself into a human-sized axolotl.
He turned back to his whiteboard.
He picked up a red marker and drew a large circle around Item 2. Beneath “Cure Jihoon,” he added: "Acquire a pure DNA sample of whatever is taking over Jihoon’s body. Compare to archived Jihoon pure sample. Create a vaccine using Formula 2."
He stared at the words for a moment. One problem solved. One much bigger problem remained.
CRASH.
A violent screech of tearing metal and shattering glass cut through the lab. The Bug Lights dropped mid-squawk and clattered across the tiles. The Mechanical Daisy froze, a snack wrapper clamped in its petals.
Plague bolted from the whiteboard to the reinforced window.
The sky was a bruised red. Out on the avenue, two hovercars had collided mid-air. One slammed hard into the glass facade of a neighboring high-rise, throwing showers of sparks down into the street. Below them, traffic lights flickered wildly and went dark.
A second ago, Old Seoul had been glowing with its usual neon-drenched rhythm.
Block by block, street by street, the electric grid collapsed. High-voltage streetlights popped into darkness. Gigantic holographic billboards dissolved into static, and entire skyscrapers plunged into shadow as the power failure cascaded across the horizon.
A total blackout.
“Shit!” He spun around and sprinted back toward his desk.
Every monitor, computer, bioreactor, and terminal flatlined at once. The central server fans whined down into dead silence. Hours of sequence logs, live culture readouts, and unbacked-up synthesizer formulas vanished behind dark, reflective glass.
Plague stared at his dead primary terminal. A vein throbbed violently at his temple.
He lifted out two gilded crystal bottles, each filled with liquid glowing a soft, bioluminescent blue.
The first bore a printed commercial label: GIN AESTHETICA™. Tanaka’s master formula for stopping DNA rewrite rejection, his life’s work repurposed into a weapon by MasterGin.
A nagging voice entered his mind. Minjo’s parting words echoed in his ears: “Jihoon first.”
“Sorry, Minjo. I have to know if it works.”
He pulled on a latex glove and unsealed the bottle. A cold, floral scent wafted up. He scooped a tiny dab of the glowing blue ointment onto his fingertip and approached the gothic freestanding mirror.
On his jawline sat an ugly weeping ulcer, a painful reminder of his failed back-alley CRISPR experiments. His attempt at Biohack Looksmaxing had turned into a living nightmare.
He clicked the timer on his stopwatch and smeared the glowing gel directly over the raw flesh.
A sharp, violent sting bit into his skin, like pouring concentrated lemon juice into an open wound. Plague hissed through his teeth, gripping the edges of the sink until his knuckles turned white.
He tracked the digital seconds ticking by. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Twenty.
Gradually, the burning sensation faded into a soothing, cool numb. Plague looked into the mirror and let out a soft sigh. The inflammation had subsided. The angry red edges had faded, and the damaged skin was beginning to close.
“Holy hell,” he breathed, a wide grin breaking across his face. “Tanaka, you absolute genius.”
Visual proof. It actually worked.
The triumphant smirk grew as he reached for the second bottle. This one was hand-labeled in precise Japanese calligraphy, stamped at the bottom with the red crest of Dr. Hoshu Tanaka: Formula to arrest DNA Rewrite.
Plague unzipped his bio-containment suit and peeled it back from his shoulder, exposing the left side of his chest over his lung.
Beneath his collarbone, the skin was semi-translucent with an oily sheen. Worse, a cluster of fleshy, feathery external gills, a nightmare leftover from his failed attempt to steal the axolotl’s regenerative powers, sprouted directly from his ribs. The surrounding tissue was raw and swollen, locked in a brutal war as his immune system violently rejected the amphibian mutation.
He scooped a generous portion of the second formula and rubbed it directly over the inflamed, translucent tissue.
He clicked his stopwatch and waited. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Half an hour.
Nothing happened. The gills remained swollen, angry, and raw.
His smile collapsed into a scowl. “Come on. Work.”
Frustrated, he reached back into the velvet case and pulled out Tanaka’s handwritten research notes, skimming the pages until his eyes locked onto an underlined paragraph.
“The arrest formula is context-dependent. To halt an active rewrite, the serum must be custom-synthesized using two distinct genetic markers: a pure baseline DNA sample from the host, and a pure DNA sample of the foreign contaminant.”
Plague blinked, processing the logic.
He stood up, walked over to a small terrarium on the side shelf, and tapped the glass. Inside, a cute, smiling albino axolotl blinked back at him lazily and ruffled its feathery pink gills.
“Sorry, buddy,” Plague said, pulling a sterile cotton swab from his pocket. “Your tissue-regrowth abilities are no longer required.”
He gently swabbed the inside of the creature’s mouth, transferred the sample into his benchtop centrifuge, and added his own archived, unmodified blood baseline. His custom-trained Biohack AI took over, mapping and comparing the two samples. He fed Dr. Tanaka’s Formula 2 into the AI, then did his own voodoo with the data before transferring the resulting formulation to the synthesizer. Within thirty minutes, the machine produced a tiny droplet of customized serum.
Plague applied the new mixture to his chest. This time, the reaction was instant. The fiery inflammation subsided as the genetic rewrite ground to a halt.
The extra gill tissue didn't magically vanish. It didn't dry up and fall off his body. No, his shame was permanent. But at least he wouldn't mutate further.
“Well, folks, I could always have a career in long-distance swimming.”
His recovery would take more work. The serum only worked on the surface. To treat an entire body, he needed a vaccine. After all, he didn’t want to burp bubbles at his parents while explaining how he spent a chunk of their fortune accidentally biohacking himself into a human-sized axolotl.
He turned back to his whiteboard.
He picked up a red marker and drew a large circle around Item 2. Beneath “Cure Jihoon,” he added: "Acquire a pure DNA sample of whatever is taking over Jihoon’s body. Compare to archived Jihoon pure sample. Create a vaccine using Formula 2."
He stared at the words for a moment. One problem solved. One much bigger problem remained.
CRASH.
A violent screech of tearing metal and shattering glass cut through the lab. The Bug Lights dropped mid-squawk and clattered across the tiles. The Mechanical Daisy froze, a snack wrapper clamped in its petals.
Plague bolted from the whiteboard to the reinforced window.
The sky was a bruised red. Out on the avenue, two hovercars had collided mid-air. One slammed hard into the glass facade of a neighboring high-rise, throwing showers of sparks down into the street. Below them, traffic lights flickered wildly and went dark.
A second ago, Old Seoul had been glowing with its usual neon-drenched rhythm.
Block by block, street by street, the electric grid collapsed. High-voltage streetlights popped into darkness. Gigantic holographic billboards dissolved into static, and entire skyscrapers plunged into shadow as the power failure cascaded across the horizon.
A total blackout.
“Shit!” He spun around and sprinted back toward his desk.
Every monitor, computer, bioreactor, and terminal flatlined at once. The central server fans whined down into dead silence. Hours of sequence logs, live culture readouts, and unbacked-up synthesizer formulas vanished behind dark, reflective glass.
Plague stared at his dead primary terminal. A vein throbbed violently at his temple.
“No. No, no, no!”
With a furious sweep of his arm, he sent a rack of empty glass vials off the counter. They shattered across the floor tiles in a cloud of glittering dust. He dropped to his knees in the wreckage, grabbing his hair.
Was the data salvageable? How long until backup power kicked in?
He stayed on the floor among the debris, eyes closed.
With a furious sweep of his arm, he sent a rack of empty glass vials off the counter. They shattered across the floor tiles in a cloud of glittering dust. He dropped to his knees in the wreckage, grabbing his hair.
Was the data salvageable? How long until backup power kicked in?
He stayed on the floor among the debris, eyes closed.
Interrupting his breakdown, was a deep sinister vibration he felt in his teeth.
His eyes snapped open. He knew that hum.
In the center of the pitch-black workshop, the massive ring of the Chronal Resonance Viewer blazed to life. The machine had been completely dormant ever since they disconnected it from the entropy-powered Black Snakeskin Box.
Violet circuitry snapped awake along its ancient metallic frame, casting long, eerie shadows across the ceiling. His eyes grew wide.
He whipped out his halophone.
Dead. Just like the power grid.
A bitter, humorless laugh escaped him.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the Forbidden Zone just engulfed my lab.”
Above Minjo’s desk hung an old paper map. His eyes traced a line from the Forbidden Zone, to MasterGin’s clinic in Gangnam, to the red dot of his lab in Old Seoul.
The Zone was the Zone. It wasn't supposed to move. No one who went inside ever came out, unless they were Monstrum. Or Jihoon. Or, apparently, Plague. But now the Zone was here.
His eyes snapped open. He knew that hum.
In the center of the pitch-black workshop, the massive ring of the Chronal Resonance Viewer blazed to life. The machine had been completely dormant ever since they disconnected it from the entropy-powered Black Snakeskin Box.
Violet circuitry snapped awake along its ancient metallic frame, casting long, eerie shadows across the ceiling. His eyes grew wide.
He whipped out his halophone.
Dead. Just like the power grid.
A bitter, humorless laugh escaped him.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the Forbidden Zone just engulfed my lab.”
Above Minjo’s desk hung an old paper map. His eyes traced a line from the Forbidden Zone, to MasterGin’s clinic in Gangnam, to the red dot of his lab in Old Seoul.
The Zone was the Zone. It wasn't supposed to move. No one who went inside ever came out, unless they were Monstrum. Or Jihoon. Or, apparently, Plague. But now the Zone was here.
He imagined all the people outside on the avenue, stumbling in the dark or staring at dead phones, maybe cursing the grid. None of them watching the sky for winged death.
He quickly bolted the doors, and closed the window shades. Hopefully, that will buy him time.
He swallowed, and turned his attention back to the immediate mystery.
The glowing violet rings of the Chronal Resonance Viewer were the only light in the room. The machine ran on the exact same energy as the Forbidden Zone.
Entropy.
But how?
He tracked a heavy-gauge power cable across the floor tiles, following it directly to the empty mounting dock where the Black Snakeskin Box used to sit.
The connection port crackled with raw, impossible energy. Small sparks of violet static danced across its copper teeth like feeding tendrils.
Hypothesis time. A stupid one, probably.
He had seen the Shadow Serpent twice. Once bursting out of the Black Snakeskin Box, once hovering over Jihoon at the Museum. And he had seen Jihoon’s cells. Half of them were fueled by something the Ai could only label as undefined.
Minjo’s words came back to him: “Foreign and unknown. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t biological.”
Hwan had said Jihoon was the Shadow Serpent’s master, and it would always return to him.
If the undefined half of Jihoon had a relative anywhere, surely it was the creature.
Plague pulled on a face mask and a pair of thick thermal gloves, grabbed a magnifying glass and a sterile swab from his kit, and knelt beside the spark-spitting port.
If the port held even microscopic dust from the Shadow Serpent, it would be worth the effort to study it.
He leaned in slowly, swab at the ready.
“Who’s a good little Entropy Electric Eel? Don’t be shy. Dr. Plague just wants a little sample.”
On him, Plague:
Top: GRAAL - COMSTOCK SHIRT/VEST, PANTS LEGACYA [mesh](Engine Room)(399L)
Shoes: Deadwool Dandy shoes - black/silver wingtip [mesh]Makeup: maledictus - Lacrimosa, red [BOM]
Hair: Dura - U122 -A: Men's [mesh]
Body: TheShops [BODY] Athletic Meshbody (Legacy)(m) (1.7.1) [mesh](5000L)
Setting:
Display: Dirty Rat - Plague Doctor [mesh]
Desk, Chair: Eclectica Curiosities - Steampunk office desk, chair [mesh]
Desk clutter 1: Den of Inquiry - Mortar & Pestle [mesh]
Desk clutter 2: RnR - Lab Frame A, B, Suspicious Fluids [mesh]
Pet: Milk Motion - Axolotl pink - static [mesh]
Aquarium: JIAN - Longfin Tetra Aquarium [mesh]
Portal: RS-Syn - Time Twist [mesh]
Skybox: C&C - The Widow's Workshop [mesh]
BONUS IMAGES: inworld raw shots, midday sky, default camera:
