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

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

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

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

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

No one did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was penance. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Plague froze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No one laughed. 

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

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

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)

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

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

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

ARCHIVAL RECORDING — CHICAGO, FEBRUARY 14, 1929

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked at Gin, his gaze alight with fire.

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

(Present Day, 2055)

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

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

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

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

On him, The Ruler of the Night:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hat: CRYPTID Noir Fedora [mesh]

Staff: David Heather Ankh Staff [mesh]

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

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

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

On him, MasterGin:

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

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

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

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

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

Boots: CULT Agatha - Legacy Male  [mesh]

Parasol: Static Sultry Parasol {Nautilus} [mesh]

Gloves: Starchild Designs Flapper #5 Gloves [BOM]

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

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

Setting:

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

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

Chairs: Architect Arcadia Armchair [mesh]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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STORYLINE: Minjo’s Workshop, 2055

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Plague raised a brow. “You kept this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A lens,” Minjo said simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

ARCHIVAL RECORDING — CHICAGO, FEBRUARY 14, 1929

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

On her, Minjo, Robotics prodigy:

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

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

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

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

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

Boots: CULT Ashton - MaitreyaX [mesh]

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

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

Head: LeLUTKA CAMILA [mesh](3990L)

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

Setting:

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

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

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

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

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, her real work happened late at night: prying at the seams of the mysterious Black Snakeskin Box, fingertips smeared with the iridescent dust its hide shed.

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 complex equations, Minjo wrote two 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.

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 Grey:

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]

Gloves: ANTAYA Latex gloves "Keily" FATPACK Lara X [mesh]

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.

Cyber Fair: The Key (Escape from Club Apophis, 18)

(click to enlarge)

STORYLINE: The night was supposed to be quiet. A simple, solemn walk to the hospital, the three of them moving through the late-night stillness of New Seoul. But the city had other plans. A siren wailed in the distance, then another, their cries tangling into a chorus of panic. Hover-cars, sleek and official, roared overhead, their searchlights cutting anxious paths through the smog toward the Forbidden Zone.

Ghost, walking a step ahead, stopped dead. His holo-pad flickered to life, projecting a frantic, glitching emergency stream from the HEXA Herald.

On the screen, Lisa Liemawr’s face was a mask of terror and adrenaline. “—life on the line to bring you the truth while I still can!” The camera feed spun wildly, revealing the cramped interior of a speeding EV. A barely conscious Kyra was slumped in the passenger seat, and at the wheel, Kyle Baek cursed as he wrenched the vehicle around a corner.

“What the hell!” Plague spat, his gaze snapping from the chaotic feed to the flashing lights now visible just a few blocks away.

Lisa’s voice crackled, distorted by signal interference. “Reporting live from the edge of the Forbidden Zone! It’s not radioactive! There are no biohazards! That’s right, folks—it’s all a government lie!”

Through the feed, they could hear the amplified, metallic voice of law enforcement booming from a bullhorn: “PULL OVER IMMEDIATELY.”

“What’s really inside the Zone is monsters!” Lisa screamed over the engine’s whine. “The government has a pact with them! Our boy, Yoon Jihoon—he’s the first person to escape that place alive, and they set him on fire for it!”

The friends stared at each other, the wild accusation hanging in the air. Spontaneous combustion. A secret pact with monsters. It was insane. But the image of Jihoon, broken and burning in the baseball diamond, made it impossible to dismiss.

“I’m sorry, Dragonlets,” Lisa pleaded, her voice breaking. “I was a coward, but not anymore! I have proof! I recorded the whole call when I was being blackmailed to cover up the truth. It was none other than Dr. Ginevra—”

The stream died. The screen went black.

Ghost’s hologram gloves flashed, projecting his urgent signs into the air. “GIN AESTHETICA.”

At the far end of the street, a blockade of enforcement vehicles materialized, their lights painting the asphalt in strobing reds and blues. Lisa’s EV screeched around the corner, hurtling directly toward them.

What happened next was a blur of metal and motion.

A lone figure stepped out from the blockade, impossibly tall and broad-shouldered. He faced the oncoming car alone and raised a single, commanding hand. The universal sign to stop.

Kyle swerved. The EV’s tires shrieked as it clipped the curb, launched into the air, and rolled twice before crashing into a ditch with a gut-wrenching crunch of metal.

Echo screamed as Kyra’s broken form was thrown clear of the wreckage. Without thinking, she sprinted toward her.

Kyra hit the asphalt hard, a discarded cyborg doll. Her severed lower leg leaked a trail of inky black fluid. Echo dropped to her knees beside her, hands trembling. “Kyra! Don’t move—”

The cybernetic cheerleader coughed, spitting a glob of black fluid that gleamed like oil in the strobing lights. Her optic sensors glitched, filling with static. With a final, desperate effort, she pressed something sharp and tiny into Echo’s palm.

“The key…” she whispered, her voice a corroded rasp. “Protect it.”

It was a chip—wafer-thin and faintly warm. Echo’s stomach lurched. She fumbled inside her jacket and pulled out a small plastic sleeve containing one of her own scavenged data chips. Her hands shook, but the motion was pure instinct. She switched her old chip with Kyra’s inside the protective case.

The ground vibrated with heavy footfalls. A shadow fell over them.

Acting on pure animal panic, Echo popped the plastic case into her mouth. The edges clicked against her teeth, cool and bitter. She shoved it into the soft pocket of her cheek, jaw clenched tight.

Boots crunched on shattered glass nearby.

The giant from the blockade stood over them, a towering silhouette against the riot of flashing lights. “Step aside,” he commanded. His voice was a deep, resonant baritone with an exotic accent she couldn’t place—velvet over steel. He gently but firmly lifted Echo and set her back on her feet, away from Kyra, before gesturing to a team in full hazmat gear. They descended on Kyra, sealing her into a mobile containment unit with chilling efficiency.

When the officer turned back, Echo had already scrambled to other side of the street behind Plague and Ghost, using them as a shield.

“What are you children doing out so late?” he asked, his gaze sweeping over them.

Plague swallowed hard, his voice trembling. “Did they… just come out of the Forbidden Zone?”

The man’s lips curved into a calm, unnerving smile. “No. No one survives the Zone. They were caught attempting entry. For their own safety, we must apprehend them for decontamination.” He lit a cigarette, the match flaring orange. The smoke that drifted from his lips carried the unsettling perfume of clove. “Do you know them?”

The three exchanged a look. “No,” they lied in unison.

The man’s piercing gaze narrowed, settling on Echo. “Why are you are out past curfew.”

She squeaked, trying to shrink behind Plague. “W-we’re going to the hospital. To see a friend.”

His eyes followed her nervous glance toward the looming glass tower of Jae Won University Hospital. “Ah. The baseball player. Lathandro.” His smile didn’t waver. “Room C, isn’t it? I heard he… caught on fire.”

A collective shiver ran down their spines. He knew.

Before anyone could react, the officer’s hand shot out and clamped around Echo’s. "You have something that doesn't belong to you." His grip was like iron. With a sickening pop of her knuckles, he pried her fingers open. The decoy chip she’d palmed clattered to the pavement. He brought his boot down hard, grinding it into glittering dust.

His smile never reaching his eyes. He blew another plume of spiced smoke into their faces. “Visiting hours are over. Go home. Forget what you saw tonight.”

He turned and walked toward the sounds of Kyle still struggling against the other officers. As he passed, the streetlights above him flickered and dimmed.

In the sudden gloom, Ghost’s hands moved, his halo gloves projecting the translation.

“His badge. It was strange.” The projected words hung in the clove-scented air. “A cobra swallowing a ball.”

The three of them stood frozen, the officer’s final, unspoken threat hanging over them. Their simple walk had spiraled into chaos, but one thing was now terrifyingly clear: Lisa wasn’t the enemy. She was fighting for Jihoon.

And the boy they were trying to save was already in the sights of the most dangerous power in New Seoul.

One more chapter until we hit the end of Escape from Club Apophis Season 2. It's been grueling. I hope you all have had fun reading.   ...This is my last post for Cyber Fair, which is ending the 22nd.  And then we must count the days before it returns once more to fill our virtual spaces with the shiny.  .... This post was inspired by the Intimidation Wear from the event and Mr Intimidation himself, thats right, The Ruler of the Night is large in charge and doing to damage control.   ...He is wearing the VoidFrame outfit in black from Gabriel. It also comes in a white version. The outfit has a Darth Vader like collar, tall gloves, pants, and sneakers.   ...The weapon on the arm is the Animesh Cypher Mantis Blade. Touch it and you can turn off the animation. It has a left and right blade. There are also non-animated blade. The blades can trigger 3 poses. It comes with a hud to customize its colors.    ...from MoonSha is the Neurovoid Hood, backpack and collar. it comes in multiple sizes and clothing and hair allowance fits, for men and women. It has a PBR and Non PBR texture hud.   ...From Anomaly is the SkullJack Hat.  I love it. it's so simple, but has beautiful PBR textures on cloth and metal plates, and it fits perfectly. ... One the rim of the cap is the Psycho:Byts CYB3 goggles.  It had a hud to change its textures and colors, and its mod to get the perfect fit. There was playful button on it too, but my serious guy cop, I made them black, but they are fun feature for more playful avatars.   ...Sadly, it's not too obvious in this shot, but he is also wearing the NK Store Sosumi HDJ Headphones. I figure they can double as police combination device and I love the LED gold on its edges.   ...I've be wanting to show this awesome cyber BOM tattoo with shine Materials by Auro. its more than flat, the bom layers have shading with the added materials, its just a beautiful effect. The design looks great on men, but of course has a female variant too. 21 colors, 2 body variants. The materials work for Lelutka EvoX and Genus SL UV mesh heads, and bodies Legacy F & M, Ebody, Kario, Kupra / Khara, Anatomy, Maitreya.

On him, The Ruler of the Night:
Outfit: Gabriel ::GB:: VOIDFRAME, LegacyM Black [mesh](Cyber Fair)(580L)
Goggles: PSYCHO:Byts CYB3, Goggles [mesh](Cyber Fair)(350L)
Cap: Anomaly SkullJack Hat, white [mesh](Cyber Fair)(159L)
Backpack, hood, collar: MoonSha Neurovoid, LegacyM [mesh](Cyber Fair)(999L)
Headphones: NK Store [NK*] Sosumi HDJ Headphones [mesh](Cyber Fair)(500L)
Weapon: TERIYAKI  _TRK_ Cypher Mantis Blades [ANIMESH] [mesh](Cyber Fair)(999L)
Shine: [AURO] Cyber Corpus - Black // EVOX, Legacy [BOM][Materials Applier](450L)

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

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

BONUS IMAGES: inworld raw shots, hi-res, midday sky (NOTE: black & gold version for the raws)

CyberFair, Androgyny Event: Game Night (Escape from Club Apophis, 17)

STORYLINE: At Echo’s place, Game Night had always been holy. The walls sweated with posters from forgotten animes, cartridges stacked like reliquaries. A broken CRT flickered in the corner, its light gleaming against the glossy spines of VR headsets charging on the floor. Old consoles slept under tangles of neon wire. Past and future elbowed each other here, welded together into an altar of outcast survival.

But tonight, the altar felt desecrated. The ramen stink had gone sour, heat from the overworked circuits clinging like mildew on their skin. The hum of machinery buzzed thin as a mosquito trapped in a stasis pod. Every pixel of light seemed to stutter, as though the room itself wanted to look away.

The longtime friends sat among the relics, eyes downcast. Plastic dice rested like bones in the dust. Once, this room had roared with their laughter, their curses, their mock battles against faceless mobs. Now the silence gnawed the edges of everything.

No one said his name. The empty seat screamed it for them.

A holo-field flickered above the controller, pixel static drifting like dust motes. The interface resolved, retro-font glowing in sickly neon:

PLAYER 2: METEOR STRIKE
Status: Waiting to log in…

Beside the text hung Jihoon’s old profile image, frozen long before his face turned impossibly flawless. A crooked smile in braces, his lucky hat askew. The boy they remembered. The boy who wasn’t supposed to vanish.

“...So we’re just not gonna talk about it?” Echo finally muttered, shoving a stack of chip bags aside. “He was our guy. Friday raids. Pizza runs. Jihoon. And now—”

Her words bled into the voice that seeped from the battered speakers of the HEXA Herald, glitch-glossy and smug. Lisa Liemawr.

“—banned lithium augments. Combustion risk higher than your grandma’s vape pen, people. Campus golden boy? More like campus fraud. He went boom because he cheated. And let’s be honest, nobody turns that pretty without paying for it. But hey, don’t just take my word for it! Witness reports are in. Kyra, yes, the girlfriend, says Jihoon was desperate to be someone, at any cost. Fame, fortune, flames, baby!” Lisa’s laughter bubbled, synthetic and cruel. “Play stupid games, win spontaneous combustion.”

Plague’s fist slammed the table, rattling a graveyard of half-broken controllers. “She’s killing him twice,” he snarled. “Jihoon hated augments. Always said putting metal in your body was just one bad update away from the morgue.” His fist balled tighter, trembling. “I thought he DNA-hacked himself… thought he chose it. God, I thought he wanted to leave us behind.”

The others flinched. They had thought the same. They’d mocked him, shut him out, just like the popular ones always did to them. Jihoon had laughed it off, pretending everything was fine. Pretending—like them—that he wasn’t burning inside.

Echo turned away, her hair a curtain. But then came a shuddering breath, the sound of denial breaking. Her voice spilled into the stale air, soft as a scalpel, merciless as truth.

“I keep seeing him on fire,” she whispered. “In my dreams, he’s burning and screaming, and I try to drag him out… but my hands just pass right through.” Her tears traced clean tracks down her cheeks. “I always fail. And we failed him. We didn’t even ask if he was okay. We just… looked away.”

The confession landed heavier than silence.

Ghost said nothing. He picked up the twenty-sided die, the sacred artifact of their friendship, their last excuse for avoidance. He didn’t roll it. He hurled it into the darkest corner. The clatter echoed, final as a coffin lid.

In the ringing quiet, the group froze. For a heartbeat, it felt like the room itself recoiled. Then Ghost keyed his holo-pad. A map of the city sharpened into view, its glow bleaching their faces. Jae Won University Hospital. The map drilled down through glass and steel until it locked on Intensive Care, Room C, -- YOON JIHOON. 

Ghost’s hologram gloves flickered, projecting his urgent sign language into the dusty air, “Done pretending.”

The words hung like a verdict. Ghost turned, his shadow dragging long across the relics as he walked for the door.

For a stunned beat, no one moved. Then Plague’s fist uncurled. Echo scrubbed her eyes raw, standing straighter than she had in weeks. Echo pushed her chair back with a final scrape.

One by one, they followed. Haunted, ashamed, and no longer hiding, they left the mausoleum of play behind.

Jihoon was waiting. ...In the hospital, in their nightmares, in the fire they could never unsee. Whatever had consumed him, it hadn’t been augments, or hacks, or doping. It was something far worse. And they had let him face it alone.


...

Such a powerful and pivotal chapter. This was written months ago, and it was just pure luck that Cyber Fair just so happens to have a major cool game in it! I was just blow away by how neat it was and the quality of the work. I went to the GeckoGames main store to get more help on setting up the game. So here I will pass it along for you, so you can play your own games!