Salvage Station: Poltergeist (Escape from Club Apophis, 47)

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STORYLINE:  The Safe Zone held its breath differently than the rest of the sewer labyrinth.

The air here carried no scent of rot or rust. It was simply absent, as if this pocket of stone existed slightly outside the world's normal processes. Sound moved with a sluggish hesitation. Ghost's own footsteps arrived a half-second late, leaving the cavern to decide whether to acknowledge his presence at all.

The 1929 Ford Coupe sat anchored in the center of the rock shelf. It was still smoking. 130 years had passed, and the vehicle had not yet finished crashing.

As Ghost explored the car’s mysterious Entropy Engine, his wrench shifted position whenever he turned his back. The antique radio clicked and hissed without a power source. Condensation dripped from the ceiling in tight, rhythmic patterns that sounded entirely too deliberate. The car's rounded headlights pulsed a sickly yellow, twice, then died.

Ghost registered every anomaly. He forced his hands to keep moving anyway. Distraction meant death. He had to stay focused on the immediate task: salvaging enough cursed energy to construct a bomb and rescue his pack.

What troubled him most was not the poltergeist. It was the vehicle's engine block. He had never seen technology like this. A few scattered fragments looked familiar. He could puzzle out others through context, but the liquid core remained completely baffling. This was not electricity. This was something engineered decades ahead of its time.

Driven by sheer frustration, he wiped grease from his gloves, climbed into the front cabin, and stared at the reclined, mummified nun. Leathered skin clung to her skull beneath the tattered black habit. He checked the glowing blue display on his wrist-mount, calculating his shrinking window of time.

He looked back at the driver's seat.

The nun's head was now pointed directly at him.

Ghost scrambled backward out of the vehicle. His heavy boots hit the mud with a wet slap.

The dashboard radio flared to life. Static hissed, sharp and biting. It grew louder by the second until a woman's whispered voice bled through the noise.

"Stop."

"Stop."

"Stop."

He paced the length of the rusted chassis, checking the countdown on his glove again.

"Stop."

"Stop."

"Stop."

Ghost slammed his heavy iron wrench down on the hood’s frame. A sharp clang echoed through the cavern. He aggressively tapped a command into his haloglove, projecting a single, blinding blue word into the dark.

SILENCE.

The static cut out instantly.

He turned back to the exposed machinery and carefully gripped a thick, braided wire.

His wrench lifted, then flew past his ear. The iron caught the edge of his collar and missed his temple by a fraction of an inch. His datapad lifted off a nearby supply crate, spinning in the dead air. The headlights flickered in a rapid, erratic strobe. Both car doors slammed open and shut in a violent, deafening mechanical frenzy.

Ghost marched to the rear trunk. He grabbed a thick canvas blanket, dragged it to the driver's side, and threw it completely over the mummy's head.

He did not expect that to work, but the frantic rattling stopped immediately.

He walked back to the front grille and leaned deep over the engine block.

The heavy steel hood slammed shut with the force of a guillotine. If his reflexes had been a fraction of a second slower, the metal would have crushed both his hands into paste.

He gripped the rusted lip and tried to force the hood back up. It remained locked tight, resisting his leverage entirely. He braced his shoulder underneath and shoved upward. Nothing moved.

Ghost let out a long, ragged breath. Defeated by the broken physics of the cavern, he collapsed into the backseat, and stared out the shattered window at the rushing black sewer water. He could feel every precious, unavailable minute slipping away into the current.

His gaze drifted back to the front seat, fixing on the blanket-covered silhouette.

The blanket-covered nun’s head was still turned his direction.

He reached forward and yanked the canvas away.

He quickly tapped a message into his haloglove. Glowing neon text projected onto the humid air.

I AM GHOST. I AM MUTE. BUSY. MUST RESCUE FRIENDS. NEED BOMB.

Absolute silence settled over the leather cabin. Then, a faint, garbled whisper emerged from the copper speaker mesh on the dashboard.

"Sophia. That was my name."

The static hissed. "I built this engine. Stop."

He tapped a single, demanding response.

WHY.

"Entropy Explosion. Time rift. …Or worse."

The sound of the rushing subterranean river mingled with the low electrical hum of the haloglove.

Ghost steadied his breathing and typed again.

HOW EXIST IN SAFE ZONE?

"I am not evil."

HELP ME.

Ghost manipulated his wrist-mount. He projected a saved image of his college friends, displaying Minjo, Plague, Echo, Lisa, Kyra, and Kyle huddled together in the dirt of The Pen. He typed below the image.

CAME TO RESCUE FRIEND. WAS KIDNAPPED.

He updated the projection, pulling up a stolen surveillance feed of Jihoon. The boy lay comatose in the center of the Museum of Catastrophes. Bright lines of violet Zone energy snaked into his pale flesh. His chest rose and fell in perfect synchronization with each cursed energy pulse.

The holographic light glitched, casting fragmented purple shadows across the ancient wooden dashboard and the hollow eye sockets of the nun.

"Recent?" the radio buzzed, the voice trembling with static emotion.

He tapped.

TODAY.

He watched the hologram, and tried to imagine Sophia’s point of view, watching the violet lines Entropy power pulsing into a young man’s chest. The rhythm of it. Her creation used for an evil purpose.

A single drop of condensation struck the metal roof of the car. Then another.

The headlights slowly dimmed to a dull, amber glow. The car’s Entropy Engine gave one final, ragged spurt, then went entirely cold.

Darkness swallowed the cavern. The only illumination came from the faint, passing trails of bioluminescent algae swirling in the distant water.

Ghost waited in the absolute dark. The roar of the rushing river sounded hollow in the engine's sudden absence.

Sophia did not speak.

Minutes ticked past.

With a soft rustle of dry fabric, the canvas blanket slowly slid from the mummy's shoulder. It pooled onto the rusted floorboards with a heavy thud.

The radio crackled. No voice followed.

He leaned forward, listening intently to the white noise. The static shifted, adopting the distinct, rhythmic cadence of human breathing

He understood, with sudden clarity, that the silence was not malfunction. It was grief.

He tapped his screen one last time, projecting a final plea into the blackness.

HELP ME SOPHIA. CEREMONY TOMORROW.

The metal frame shuddered. The engine hummed once. It was a low, resonant vibration, sounding exactly like a machine exhaling after holding its breath for nearly a century. The twin headlights flickered on, burning steady and brilliantly white, slicing through the cavern gloom.

With a sharp metallic click, the car hood popped open.

"Let us begin," the radio whispered.

...

On Him, Ghost:

Jumpsuit: Starlit Endeavor - Machina Jumpsuit Set [mesh](Salvage Station)(1985L)

Wristpad: Starlit Endeavor - Machina WristReader Wristpad[mesh](Salvage Station)(650L)

Hair: Dura - B95-HAIR [mesh]

Headband: TRASH - Covenant Unrigged Headband [mesh]

Gloves: LANEVO - Silence Gloves, LegacyM, Fatpack [mesh]

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

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

Setting:

Bootle: ISHIKU - La Mer Swing-Top Beer Bottle[mesh](Salvage Station)(480L)

Spooky Eyes: HAUNT - Little Void - Puddle[mesh](Salvage Station)(159L)

Radio: Starlit Endeavor -  Machina ChatterBox Radio[mesh](Salvage Station)(650L)

Boombox: Starlit Endeavor -  Machina LoopCrate Boombox[mesh](Salvage Station)(650L)

Datapad: Starlit Endeavor -  Machina OmniDeck Datapad[mesh](Salvage Station)(650L)

Flask: Starlit Endeavor -  Machina Rations Flask[mesh](Salvage Station)(650L)

Toolbox: Starlit Endeavor -  Machina Toolbox[mesh](Salvage Station)(650L)

Wrench: Starlit Endeavor -  Machina Wrench Gift[mesh](Salvage Station)(Gift)

Cannisters: Random Matter - Junk Jeweler II - Cannisters [mesh](Salvage Station)(160L)

Oil: Random Matter - Junk Jeweler II - Oil[mesh](Salvage Station)(100L)

Radio: Random Matter - Junk Jeweler II - Radio [Dark][mesh](Salvage Station)(140L)

Corpse: ContraptioN - Wrapped Corpse [mesh]

Car: Dirty Rat - The Botched Job [mesh]

Setting: Dirty Rat - Sewer [mesh]

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

Engine Room: Mirror Mirror on the Wall (Escape from Club Apophis, 41)

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STORYLINE:   In the mad dash to evade the Enforcers, the team scattered. Lost and half-blind, Minjo ducked into the nearest available door.

The corridor was a jarring contrast to the plastic surgery clinic's sterile white above. Here, everything glowed warm and decadent. She couldn't read the details clearly. Her world had been a smear of shapes and color since the sewers took her glasses. But she could feel the difference. Thick carpet underfoot instead of tile. The air tasted faintly of mahogany and expensive old perfume. Warmth instead of clinical cold.

At the end of the hall, a brass door radiated importance. She didn't need sharp eyes to recognize that shape of authority.

She ran for it, heart hammering against her ribs. She pressed the gold serpent brooch to the kiosk by feel.

"Welcome home, Mistress Paine," the automated assistant chirped. The heavy door hissed open.

Footsteps echoed behind her.

Minjo slipped inside and dropped to the cold floor. She dove beneath what felt like a bed. Her hands found a brass frame, heavy embroidered fabric, the scent of dust and trapped air. She pressed herself flat and waited.

MasterGin's voice cut through the corridor like a razor drawn across velvet. "Trying to break what belongs to me? How ambitious of you."

"You can't do this to me." Paine's voice was tight. Desperate.

"Oh, I already have."

"I built this clinic. I run it."

"And yet here we are. Think of it as a sabbatical. A very long one. Your only duty now is to ensure no one else harms another glorious hair on his head. Now go. Before I'm forced to correct what jealousy has done to your face."

Heels receded. Precise. Unhurried.

The door swung open.

"Welcome home, Mistress Paine," the automated assistant repeated, just as brightly.

Minjo shifted backward into the shadows.

Something heavy smashed against the wall. She flinched at the sound. Glass, by the pitch of it, shattering across the floor. Something small skittered under the bed skirt and came to rest near her knee. She felt the edge of it with careful fingers. A shard. Mirror glass. She moved her hand away.

From under the folds of fabric, she listened more than she watched.

The clinic administrator's breathing was ragged. The rustle of fabric, a zipper, something heavy dropping to the floor. A change of clothes. Minjo filed this away. Paine shedding the white coat in private meant the white coat was a performance. What came after was the real thing. The unmistakeable shape and colors of a nun habit.

Then the soft thud of a body sliding down a wall. Knees pulling in. A choked sob that the room swallowed slowly.

Minjo had expected many things from Nurse Paine. Crying was not among them.

She inched forward carefully, staying low, until she had a partial sightline through the gap in the bed skirt. Shapes and light. The glow of a halophone activating. Paine's blurred silhouette on the floor, something small held up in the amber light, a lock of something pale, silver-bright even to her damaged eyes. Hair. Long and silver.

Jihoon's hair.

Paine gripped it like a lifeline.

"April 13, 2055," Paine said, her voice hoarse. "Club Apophis. Five minutes to midnight."

The phone projected a hologram into the dark room. Minjo couldn't make out faces clearly, blurred shapes and moving light, but she didn't need to. She heard sounds. Clinking glasses, upbeat music, layered chatter. A birthday party. Someone singing Happy Birthday with theatrical confidence. She recognized the timbre of that voice even muffled through projection speakers.

MasterGin.

She heard the wink in his voice, "It's going to be you."

The crowd began to chant.

Ten. Nine. Eight.

Minjo held herself perfectly still. She was beginning to understand what she was witnessing.

Three. Two. One.

A sound she could interpret without seeing: heavy doors opening. Streetlight bleeding in. She could tell by the way the room's light shifted even through her limited sight. The music stopped mid-note. Absolute silence.

Then a voice she knew.

Uncertain. Slightly embarrassed. Completely ordinary.

"Hi."

Minjo's hand flew to her mouth.

No one on screen moved.

Paine killed the projection. The room plunged back into suffocating silence.

The sound that followed was harder to listen to than anything in the recording. Not sobbing exactly. The specific, ugly sound of a person coming apart when they believe no one can hear them. Ragged breaths scraping against the quiet. The wet sound of grief that has nowhere to go.

Minjo shifted her weight slightly to ease the ache in her knees. Her knee grazed something, the glass shard barely touching it, and the tiny sound it made against the floorboards detonated in the silence.

Paine's breath stopped.

Then the bed was gone. Hauled back with a jarring metallic scrape. Cold air rushed in. A shape loomed over her. Minjo couldn't see the expression clearly but she could read the body language in the set of the shoulders, the raised arm. Something sharp and metallic glinted the ambient light. Shears.

Minjo froze. She calculated what she could: the distance to the door by memory, the approximate angle of the blade by the glint, and her absolute zero percent chance of survival.

She waited.

Above her, something changed. The raised arm didn't fall. Minjo could feel the recalculation happening in the pause, threat assessment shifting, the quality of the silence changing from predatory to something else.

Slowly, the shears lowered.

"I didn't mean to pry," Minjo said. She kept her voice perfectly even. "I just needed a place to hide." She nodded toward the silver strands she could make out in Paine's hand. "You disguised your betrayal with a smaller one. Brilliant."

Paine looked down at the hair. "Twenty years," she whispered. Her voice was entirely hollow. "I gave him twenty years of devotion. I bled for him. He forgot I existed the second that boy walked through the door."

Minjo considered this. "He told you it was going to be you."

"I was the strongest of his disciples," Paine said. "MasterGin had been preparing for centuries. I thought I was the culmination of it all. The pinnacle of his achievement. But I wasn't. None of us were."

The shame left Paine's voice. What replaced it was worse.

"I followed the false god," Paine said, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper. "And I was envious of the real one."

Paine sank to her knees. She bowed her head deeply, almost pressing her forehead against the dusty floorboards.

"I didn't understand, but I do now. Someone appeared by chance. Seemingly unworthy. And..."

"Chaos," Minjo interrupted flatly. "Just the kind of surprise a god of chaos would find funny."

"No." She shook her head. "Jihoon is one of us. A Child of Apophis. He has to be. He's the Lost One. Please accept my apology," Paine whispered to the floor. "My envy blinded me. I will serve the true Chosen One. As the advocate of Yoon Jihoon, how may I assist you?"

Minjo looked at the blurred shape of the woman kneeling before her. She didn't offer comfort. She didn't offer a speech about forgiveness. The variables of their survival had just changed. She needed to exploit them.

Minjo dusted off her knees and rose.

"Can you get us into the ceremony?"

"Yes."

"Good. I need to know exactly what happened to Jihoon when he entered Club Apophis. I need the logistics of the Opening of the Mouth ceremony, Monstrum, the Old Ways." Minjo reached out and found the silver strands by feel, lifting them from Paine's hand. "And I'll be taking this mutant DNA sample. Thank you for your assistance."

For those still following along for the continuing storyline, this chapter just revealed who the Magic Mirror is in my cyberpunk horror retelling of Snow White. Paine is the mirror to MasterGin's evil queen. lol The Prince and the Huntsman will be revealed, as well as wrapping up the character arcs for Lisa, Ghost, Echo and Jihoon. I estimate there are roughly 4 more chapters left and an epilogue. What a journey!

This post was inspired by the series and wonderful items on this round of Engine Room which ends tomorrow. The setting has so many lovely things, and both outfits are gorgeous.   ...On MasterGin is the Nixon outfit by OneDays. It's one-piece outfit you buy in a single color or fatback.   ...On the long suffering Paine is the Rebis Scholar Garments. It comes in fits for men and women. It has textures in PBR that give the metallic edges sparkle, and a tattered hem.   ...From Milkbath is the Censer. Just wear it and it will trigger a 1 of 4 poses which you can alter in the texture hud. It comes in left and righted version, swing, and non swing.   .... From Cult is the Cornelia boots (shown below) for female avatars. The boots include gear details, and a spooky spinal vertebra heel. They are elegant gothic style with metallic details. But I really love the suede texture options, along with the leather.   ...The Bedroom set is by Eclectica. It includes the bed, dressers, mirrors, and lamps. The mirrors are PBR and will reflect the environment. It comes with a texture hud to change the metal color, and fabrics.   ...From Lore is the Captain's Lounge Chair, tables, and lamp. They are PBR with a hud to change the chair textures.   ...Also from Lore is matching skybox, Nemo's study. Its fantastic with elegant PBR textures.   ...From Duplexity is an art deco Radio.   ...From Ishiku is another stunning crystal glass set, Vintage Floral Decanter. It's mod, so I tinted it green to match my theme.   ...From Puddles is the Royal Scribe's Collection with lectern, feather pen, and book stack.   ...From Apika is the spooky Madame Palmelope, a hand holding a teacup, that when touched, will give you your fortune.   ..In the back, is the Architect Volta fireplace. I tinted the flames green for a spooky effect.

The Apophis series will be taking a break for the first time in almost a year, as I shift to blogging the Fantasy Faire. Be looking forward to it.  Apophis will return after that. 

On Her, Nurse Paine:

Outfit: REBIS - Scholar Garments . LaraX . OMNIPACK [mesh](Engine Room)(2000L)

Censer, pose: MILKBATH - Samael Censer [mesh](Engine Room)(799L)

Boots: CULT - Cornelia [mesh](Engine Room)(369L)

Headdress: ONEDAYs - UNHOLY HEADRESS [UNRIGED]

Hair: Limerence - Tamesis hair [mesh](990L)

Gloves: ContraptioN - Dapper Dandy's Glove, Maitreya [mesh]

Tears: SAXO - Bleeding Eyes lel EVOX Unisex [BOM]

Eyes: VelvetVue - Hibrida blue eyes :: sclera #1 [BOM]

Skin: VOGLIA - ELEKTRA Skin, EvoX, Icy With Brows [BOM]

Head, eyes: LeLUTKA - RAVEN 4.0 [mesh](3990L)

Body: TheShops - Legacy (f) Special Edition (Basic) 1.2 [mesh]

On Him, MasterGin:

Outfit: ONEDAYs - NIXON OUTFIT, Black, LEGACY [mesh](Engine Room)(350L)

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

Claws: L'Emporio&PL - Oblio Vampire Claws male [mesh](350L)

Hair: bonbon - tame hair, naturals [mesh](439L)

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

Setting:

Bedroom set: Eclectica - Steampunk Bed [mesh](Engine Room)(850L)

Chairs. tables, lamp: LORE - Captain's Lounge Chair [mesh](Engine Room)(1700L)

Radio: Duplexity - Aetherys Lux Radio - Wood/Gold [mesh](Engine Room)(299L)

Glass set: ISHIKU - Vintage Floral Crown Decanter Dispenser [mesh](Engine Room)(490L)

Books, scroll, feather pen: Puddles - Royal Scribe's Collection [mesh](Engine Room)(300L)

Hand, teacup: Apika - Madame Palmelope [mesh](Engine Room)(499L)

Fireplace: Architect - Volta Fireplace [mesh]

Skybox: LORE - Nemo's Study [PBR] [mesh]

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

Midnight Order: Martyr of the Underground (Escape from Club Apophis, 32)

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STORYLINE: The sewer had gone quiet. Not the usual dripping, echoing quiet. This was curated silence, like a museum after closing. The Ford coupe smoked faintly, frozen mid-disaster, exactly how it had crashed a century ago. No rot. No decay. Just a moment pinned to reality like a butterfly on velvet.

Lisa’s mouth opened, then shut. For the first time, she looked genuinely rattled. Then a slow, predatory smile spread across her face.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “Say that again. But slower. Because that is the lead of the century.”

Ghost raised the brass lantern. The light swung in a nauseating arc, illuminating the limestone walls above the wreck.

High on the dripping wall was the seal of the Monstrum Serpent, slashed with a jagged red mark.

“Look up there. Safe Zone,” Kyle looked upwards, wiping blood from his forehead. “Hwan’s mark. He said Monstrum had no power in its boundary.”

They approached the vehicle slowly. As they crossed the invisible threshold, the gloom shifted. The air felt lighter. It tasted different. Less metal. Less wrong.

The low, dangerous hum of the Forbidden Zone died instantly.

It was too still. Too deliberate. As if the room had been waiting for them for over a hundred years. History itself paused, waiting for witnesses.

The trunk of the 1929 Ford Coupe had been cracked open in the impact.

It was not empty. Inside was a cache. Organized. Stockpiled. Not random scavenging. More like a prep bag for the end of the world.

“Over here,” Lisa said, voice unsteady as she pointed to the logo stamped on a silver medical crate. A heart with devil horns. Her eyes widened. “It's Romance,” she realized.

The trunk was a shrine of survival. Cans of peaches. Vacuum-sealed thermal clothes. Bottled water. Medical kits. Bandages still clean enough to look holy. Inside a lead-lined box, translucent batteries glowed with swirling, cursed purple energy.

Zone power. The forbidden kind.

Plague grinned, grabbing a battery like a starving man grabbing bread. “Jackpot.”

Minjo stood near the fender, not looking at the supplies. She stared at a blur of shapes, squinting painfully. To her damaged eyes, the car was just a smudge of shadow against the dark.

“Don’t touch anything,” she snapped, blinking hard, trying to force clarity through irritation alone. Her hands were shaking, so she curled them into fists and hid them in her sleeves.

“Guys,” Echo whispered.

Her voice was so small it barely existed.

They all turned. Echo was peering through the shattered driver’s window.

“There’s someone in here.”

Ghost moved the lantern closer. The light slid across the interior, illuminating mold that bloomed on the leather upholstery like pale veins. The smell of oil and iron hung in the air.

A body was slumped over the wheel. It was draped in the rotted remains of a nun’s habit, the white cloth clinging to the bones as if it had fused there in obedience.

In the skeletal hand was a glass bottle marked Devil's Tongue.

Plague leaned in, sniffing the air near the mummified face.

“Poison,” he whispered, as if not to wake her. “Probably Ricin.”

On the dashboard, preserved in a sealed bag, was a folded note.

The sight of it made the room colder. Not physically. Emotionally. Not just death. Death with intention.

“She… she did this to herself,” Kyle realized, his face paling.

“Someone read it,” Minjo said, frustration cracking her voice as she squinted uselessly at the dash.

Echo reached in, her movements reverent. She retrieved the bag, opening it to release a faint scent of old ink and something sweet. Roses.

Echo’s hands trembled as she unfolded the paper.

“My love…”

The words landed like a whisper in a cathedral. Not romantic. Not cute. A confession written with shaking hands and no future.

Echo read:

My love, 

If you are reading this, I did not betray you. 

I am too weak to burn daylight into night. 

I am sorry I failed. 

Do not punish yourself for my choice. 

This was my last act of disobedience. 

I die with hope the lost one will come and avenge us all. 

My heart belongs to you always. 

Pink is not a sin. 

Pink is a door. 

— S. 

Echo stopped.

She stared at the paper as if it had spoken back.

The cavern didn’t feel like a room anymore. It felt like a tomb.

The skeletal hand suddenly slumped down in the driver’s seat. The empty bottle rolling out of its fingers.

Echo’s mouth opened once, silently. Then the sound came. A strangled sob, ripped out of her chest like a confession.

“No…” she whispered. “No, no, no…”

Kyle moved to her immediately, wrapping his arms around her as she pressed the note to her heart and shook.

“She died in here,” Echo choked. “She… she wrote him a goodbye letter…” Her eyes flicked back to the skeleton. “A Nun of the Zone. She had a face. She had a name. Not a monster. A person,” she whispered, as if to herself.

The words landed like a stone in water.

Even Plague went quiet.

Even Ghost’s hands stilled.

Minjo stared at the skeleton, her bare eyes reflecting the flare like twin knives. Her jaw trembled once before she locked it down. Anger was easier than grief.

Kyle sniffed. “Who even was she? Why would Romance—”

“SHUT IT.” Lisa snapped both hands up like she was stopping traffic.

Everyone froze.

Echo’s sobs hiccuped into silence.

Lisa didn’t look at them. She stood very still, head tilted, like a predator listening for a heartbeat. She looked at the scene. The money. The bullet holes. The trunk stash. The Devil Heart logo.

Like a crime board. A puzzle begging to be solved.

Lisa paced three steps. Then two. Then three again. Boots scraped on stone. She tapped her lip, eyes unfocused, brain chewing.

“Okay…” she whispered.

Then, quieter, like she was speaking to the universe itself:

“Okay, okay, okay…”

She stopped.

For the first time, she hesitated.

“This is insane,” she murmured. Then her eyes sharpened.

Her hand darted toward her pocket. Empty. “Oh my god," she hissed. "I’m about to crack the biggest story in the Neu Seoul with zero footage.”

She whipped toward Ghost. “Do you have a camera?”

Ghost just stared at her, soaked and unreadable.

Lisa exhaled hard. “Fine. I’ll narrate it like a podcast from hell. Do not interrupt me.”

She pointed a finger at the cache of humans supplies in the trunk, then back to the note. “Romance isn't just a smuggler of goods into The Pen. He’s running an extraction team. Smuggling humans out. And this dead nun was his accomplice. Traitors to Monstrum. Both of them."

“Hwan too,” Kyle added quietly, nodding to the Safe Zone mark. "Created for escaping humans. Jihoon." 

“Exactly. And this...” she gestured to the dead nun, “...she clearly wasn’t trying to escape.”

Kyle blinked. “What?”

“Think about it,” Lisa hissed, pacing again. “The recording you saw in the workshop. The Time File. Valentine’s Day, Chicago, 1929. The birth of Monstrum. You thought it was just a history lesson. But how does a file like that exist? Who was holding the camera?”

She pointed at the nun.

“She was.”

Minjo’s head turned, slow and controlled. “Lisa. Explain.”

“The Resistance,” Lisa said, the pieces clicking together like a loading gun. “They knew they couldn’t beat Monstrum in the present. The vampires are too strong. Too entrenched. So they tried to hit them where they were vulnerable.”

“The past,” Echo whispered, looking at the car.

“Exactly.” Lisa’s eyes were manic now. “This isn’t a getaway car. It’s an assassination vehicle. She went back. She tried to sabotage the birth of Monstrum. To kill them in their crib.”

She looked at the skeleton with a terrified respect.

“But she failed. ‘I am too weak to burn daylight into night.’ She couldn’t do it. She barely made it back here to the Safe Zone... and then she drank the poison rather than let them catch her.”

"That’s impossible,” Plague said flatly. “We don't have the technology to time travel.”

"No," Minjo said, her voice cutting through the damp air like a scalpel. "Human tech can't. But Zone tech might."

She stormed toward the coupe, her hands fumbling blindly for the hood latch. “I need to verify the power source,” she muttered, fingers scraping against the cold metal.

Her fingers found the latch. The dented hood groaned as she heaved it up.

“What the hell is that?” Kyle growled.

There was no engine block. No pistons. No carburetor.

Inside was a carbon fiber lattice wrapping a core of matte black ceramic. Obsidian coils spiraled around it like ribs around a heart. Tubes of violet liquid pulsed in slow, deliberate rhythms, syncing with a sound that was less a hum and more a vibration in their teeth.

Minjo froze. She reached out, her fingers hovering inches from the pulsing core. She didn't need to see it clearly. She could feel the cold radiating from it.

“I know this architecture,” she whispered. “I’ve seen fragments. In the mirror. In the snakeskin box.”

She swallowed, her face pale in the violet light.

“This is cursed Zone energy containment. An Entropy Drive.” 

She turned back to them, eyes wide and hollow. “It’s not power from combustion. It’s power from decay. From chaos.” She looked at the machine with terrified awe. “...from unmaking creation. That was Jihoon’s theory. And I cannot debunk it, because it is sitting right here.”

Kyle inched closer, looking between the nun and the machine. “So… she really drove this thing to 1929?”

“Yes,” Minjo whispered. “And the file we watched in the workshop... that was her black box recording. We were watching her failure.”

“She tried to save the world,” Echo sniffled, looking at the skeleton. “And no one ever knew.”

“We know,” Lisa said firmly. “And now we have her engine.”

Minjo was already pulling out her equipment, slamming her kit onto the fender.

“Ghost. Wrist mount. Now.”

She squinted into the pulsing violet core, her fear replaced by the cold calculation of an engineer.

“We’re going to unlock that map,” Minjo said. “And then we’re going to finish what she started."


Happy Valentine's Day, Gothic styled! Our tragic heroine is wearing the MDN Dark Habit Bodysuit pack. It includes multiple pieces and textures, and ability to the turn on and off some parts of the outfit. Its mod too, so I turned off by hand a few sections on the choker to better show the snake necklace.   ....She is drinking from the Ishiku Devil's Tongue Whiskey Bottle and shot glass. It has PBR textures and triggers a hold pose. The bottle top comes with an option of one or off. Its mod, so I tinted the whiskey red for the image.   ... But let's talk about the bloody Valentine! The skin texture by Someone has a dramatic splash down the chest, and mouth area, gorey. It comes in male and female skins, and 10 fantasy skin tones, and fit Legacy and Reborn too. The matching eyes are a gift.   .... Adding an extra element to the blood, is the Artemisia animated add ons, Blood Rivulets. There is non rigged upper section for the mouth, and lower section rigged to the chest. A must have for all vamps.   ....From Sigma is the elegant high fashion snake necklace, Minos. It comes in rigged and unrigged, and a texture hud.  ....From Eudora3D are the RoadRider Boots and kneepad, shown the raw shot below.   ... And from Cabalpier is the Preacher's Lectern. It comes in set with parts of the podium, candle stand, scrolls, book, and base. 

On her, Martyr of the Underground:

Outfit: MDN - Dark Habit Bodysuit Fatpack(Legacy)[mesh](Midnight Order)(2311L)

Necklace: SIGMA - Minos necklace [mesh](Midnight Order)(320L)

Skin: SOMEONE - Bloodbound Maneater Skin - Legacy - Void[mesh](Midnight Order)(1000L)

Eyes: SOMEONE - Bloodhound eyes (Midnight Order)(gift)

Blood effect: Artemisia - )O( Blood Rivulets [mesh](Midnight Order)(450L)

Boots: Eudora3D - RoadRider Boots Legacy, white [mesh](Midnight Order)(499L)

Bottle: ISHIKU - Devils Tung Whiskey Bottle [mesh](Midnight Order)(480L)

Head, eyes: LeLUTKA - lel EvoX LILLY 3.1 [mesh](3990L)

Body: Meshbody - Legacy (f) Special Edition (Basic) 1.2 [mesh]

Setting:

Candles: CABALPIER - Preacher's Lectern [mesh](Midnight Order)(375L)

Scene: Dirty Rat - Sewer [mesh](549L)

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

 

Salvage Station: The Blood Economy (Escape from Club Apophis, 29)

(click to enlarge)

STORYLINE:  From their hiding spot in an overturned railway car, Lisa filmed through the cracked lens of her phone, framing the scene like a war correspondent behind enemy lines. Her hands shook, ruining the auto-focus; the camera kept glitching as if it refused to witness this.

It was a grotesque collision of medical theater and decadent luxury. The Master of Ceremonies strutted across the rust-stained stage, cracking jokes to a crowd that shouldn't exist. Below him, the elite of the Forbidden Zone drifted into the plaza like models on a divine runway. Their outfits were pure excess, extravagant silhouettes mixing modern couture with the gleaming opulence. Every guest styled as if they expected to be worshipped the moment they stepped off their hovercar.

A low, wet chewing sound rose from somewhere in the stands, someone snacking on something that definitely hadn’t come from the buffet tables. Perfume wafted through the air, sweet, expensive, and failed miserably to hide the underlying stench of rot.

"Welcome, esteemed connoisseurs! Tonight’s vintage comes fresh from the surface, high-adrenaline blood, perfectly seasoned with terror!" The MC gestured to a trembling man with glowing runes on his neck. “Lot 44. Former accountant. High cholesterol, but a rich, buttery finish. Five thousand credits?”

"It's an auction," Kyle realized, his face draining of color. "They're not here to eat the sludge. They're here to eat us."

“Six thousand!” someone bellowed.

“Seven!” chirped another.

Somewhere behind them, something heavy scraped across concrete, slow and deliberate, another monster repositioning for a better view.

When the first auction closed, a hush fell over the crowd. A woman in ritual robes, more elaborate than the hunter Nuns, glided onto the stage. She held tools that gleamed under the harsh lights: silver, precise, terrifying. This wasn’t butchery; it was a medical ceremony.

"Look," Minjo whispered, nudging Lisa. The phone slipped in Lisa’s sweaty palm. "I know that woman. She drugged me at the hospital."

With a motion too fast to track, the woman pricked the arm of the human prize sitting in the chair. A single, perfect line of red flowed down a tube and into a crystal flute lined with gold. A warm draft rolled over them from the stage, carrying the coppery breath of freshly cut veins. The winner of the bid stepped up, took the glass, and swirled it. He inhaled the bouquet, eyes rolling back in ecstasy, savoring it like a sommelier with a rare vintage.

"Sustainable farming," Plague murmured, horrified. "Why kill the cow when you can milk it?"

Then, movement in the periphery caught Lisa’s eye.

A young man, a fresh arrival still wearing a tattered business suit, broke from the intake line. The rune tattoos on his neck flared with a bio-luminescent warning, but he didn’t stop. He made a desperate beeline for the massive iron gates, which stood open to admit a line of luxury hovercars.

Run, Lisa mouthed, her heart hammering against her ribs. Run.

Beside her, Kyra reached out and squeezed Lisa’s hand, her metal fingers icy. They watched in silent prayer as the man sprinted past the guard post.

"Something's wrong," Lisa whispered, the dread coiling in her stomach. "No one is trying to stop him."

It was true. The Enforcers didn't raise their weapons. They didn't unleash the dogs. They simply watched him go with bored indifference.

"No, stop!" Lisa yelled, the realization hitting her a second too late.

The man crossed the threshold of the Pen. He hit the fog line. He was free.

SCREEECH.

A shadow detached itself from the ruins above the gate. A massive bat, leather wings glistening with oil, swooped down. It didn't strike like a bird; it hit like a falling anvil. Huge talons tore the man in half before he could even scream.

More shapes swarmed from the fog, ghouls and feral things, fighting over the remains. The Enforcers at the gate finally moved, thrusting their electric pikes forward not to capture the man, but to drive the monsters back.

Lisa turned away, bile rising in her throat. She dry-heaved into the dirt.

"They aren't jailers," she choked out, wiping her mouth. "They're bouncers. They aren't keeping us in. They're keeping those things out."

Kyra squeezed her hand tighter, the metal joints creaking. It was rare to see Lisa Liemawr, the queen of spin, truly afraid.

"It's true then," Minjo said, her voice flat, stripped of all scientific skepticism. "They really are vampires."

"And Jihoon," Plague whispered, looking ill. "If the DNA doesn't lie... he's one of them. Maybe he always was."

"Bullshit," Kyle snorted, though his eyes darted nervously toward the shadows.

Ghost didn’t speak. He slashed a sign through the air, and his Halo-gloves flickered to life, spitting out a jittering band of blue text: Escape from below. Only option.

"You're in luck," a smooth voice purred from the dark.

Lisa jumped. Romance stepped out from behind a stack of crates, looking immaculate in his white suit, pink cape, and flashy gold jewelry.

"You happen to know the Zone's best smuggler." He reached into his breast pocket and produced a small data chip emblazoned with a heart and devil horns. "This map is current. I promise." He held it out to Ghost, winking. "If you survive this, I could use a pickpocket with your skills."

Kyra's arm shot out, blocking Romance. "Why? Why do you keep helping us? Why are we treated differently from the others?"

Romance paused. He glanced nervously at the flickering lights of the perimeter. The playful mask slipped, just for a second, revealing something tired underneath.

"Let's just say..." He looked at Kyra's damaged leg, his gaze softening. "I have my reasons."

Ghost stared at the Idol, face unreadable, before snatching the chip and slotting it into his wrist-mount.

Lisa didn't know the silent boy well, but the way his eyes scanned the perimeter gave her hope. "Running water," she blurted out, her reporter brain connecting the dots. "Vampires can't cross it, right? Folklore basics."

Kyra looked at Lisa, puzzled. She knew that tone. That was Lisa's "I have a terrible idea" tone.

Lisa smirked, "We just need a river that leads out of the Zone."

Romance looked worried. He pointed to the Wellhouse. "Go. Before the wind changes."

Then, in a puff of pink smoke and holographic hearts, he disappeared.

Lisa looked at Kyra, smiled a jagged, terrified smile, and squeezed her hand. "Just like old times, Me and You against the world. We're gonna break this news first."

She raised her phone, hitting record on the auction below once more. If they were going to die, the world was going to see why.

For a moment, it seemed they might slip away unnoticed. Then, the auctioneer’s gavel fell silent. The laughter stopped. Every head in the plaza, hundreds of them, snapped toward their hiding spot.

Panic, cold and sharp, gripped Lisa. What happened?

She looked around. Echo was trembling against the crate wall. A tiny bead of blood bloomed on her lower lip where she had bitten it in fear.

The scent hit the air like a gunshot.

"Fuck," Lisa groaned.

Ghost was already moving. RUN! he signed, gesturing violently toward the stone structure of the Wellhouse.

The students bolted. Mud slicked under their boots as they scrambled toward the heavy wooden doors.

But Kyra wasn't keeping up.

Lisa stopped, skidding in the dirt. Her lifelong friend, the head cheerleader, the girl who could outrun anyone, was dragging her leg. Her heavy cybernetic chassis was sparking, a dead weight.

"Go!" Kyra screamed.

Lisa ran back, grabbing Kyra’s arm. She pulled, but it was like trying to move a statue. Her palms slipped on cold alloy; the weight wrenched her shoulder with a bright, tearing pain.

"Wild Stock!" someone roared. "Unmarked!"

The vampires were surging toward them, a wave of silk and fangs. The crowd inhaled as one, a predatory hiss rolling through the arena like a cold wind.

Lisa looked at the Wellhouse. Even if she dragged Kyra there... the water. Kyra would sink like a stone.

"Fuck," Lisa cursed, tears stinging her eyes as she pulled harder. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." She hooked her arms under Kyra’s and felt the deadened weight of steel, an anchor masquerading as a girl.

"Save yourself!" Kyra sobbed, pushing her away. "It's too late! You have to tell them, Lisa! Tell the world!"

"No can do," Lisa panted, refusing to let go.

This was her fault. Kyra had followed her into hell because Lisa wanted a scoop. And now, they were both going to die for it.

Suddenly, a high-pitched feedback whine pierced the air.

The vampires halted, covering their ears. On the stage, Romance had seized the microphone.

"Run, you idiot!" Kyra shoved Lisa hard enough to knock her back.

Lisa stumbled but shook her head.

Romance's sweet voice surged through the air, weaponized perfection impossible to ignore.

He pointed a manicured finger toward Kyra. Stage tech scrambled to follow his gesture. The spotlight swung wildly across the mud, missing Lisa by inches and landing squarely on the fallen cyborg.

Kyra froze, bathed in the blinding white beam, exposed to a thousand monsters.

Romance sang, his voice amplified by magic.

     "Oooo, in all the ways I am so undeserving,

      I saw the curse I deserved start reversing.

      On the first day, I saw your face...."


Then he roared, shaking the speakers. "...ONE BILLION WON! FOR THE CYBORG!"

The auctioneer lunged for the mic. "Too much! Her blood is spoiled with oil and lithium! It is worthless!"

"To you!" Romance shoved him back, his voice dripping with arrogant disdain. "But I don't drink the blood. It's her soul I want! One Billion Won! She moves to the Gold VIP section, and no one touches her but me!"

The mob hesitated. They looked at Kyra, smelling the hydraulic fluid leaking from her leg. Tainted. They pulled back, noses wrinkling.

"SOLD!" the Auctioneer shouted, slamming the gavel down in terror.

Romance vanished in a puff of pink smoke and reappeared instantly beside Kyra. He scooped her heavy frame into his arms as if she were made of paper. He looked down at her, smiling like a knight in shining, hot-pink armor.

The rest of the team was already at the Wellhouse, stripping off heavy jackets. Echo was hysterical. But Lisa stood frozen just inside the door, staring through the grate.

Romance turned, carrying Kyra toward the VIP gate. Kyra looked back over his shoulder. Her face was streaked with dirt, and a single tear cut a clean line through the grime.

Lisa gripped the iron bars of the Wellhouse, her knuckles white. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't believe this was goodbye.

BOOM.

The ground quaked. Outside, Hwan was roaring, swinging his massive hammer to hold back the tide of rejects who hadn't accepted the auction result.

"LISA!" Minjo bellowed. "NOW!"

Kyle, the strongest of them, had already splashed into the black water with Echo, Minjo, and their bundled clothes tied to his back.

Lisa wiped her face, smearing the tears into the mud. She grabbed Ghost. "Help me! Quickly!"

The Wellhouse reeked of sulfur and old sins. Grit crunched under her boots, and cold condensation dripped from the ceiling.

Lisa propped the phone against the rusty wall. Her hands shook, not from cold, but from the adrenaline of what she was about to say.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice raw. "One take. No edits. Don't vomit."

She hit record. The battery indicator, fueled by the tiny residual charge, blinked red.

"Hey," she said. No catchy intro. No Dragonlets. "If you're watching this... I'm probably dead. My name is Lisa Liemawr. I’m at The Pen, Sector 4. The Forbidden Zone isn't a quarantine. It's a farm. And we humans? We're the livestock. The government knows. The police know. They're letting it happen."

She held up the soiled teddy bear. "This belonged to a kid. They're all here. Send the army. Send anyone."

She hit Stop.

Ghost moved fast. He raised his hands, halo-gloves buzzing with cursed Zone electricity. Lisa marveled at his speed; his fingers flew across the screen, bypassing security protocols, linking it to one of his own transmitters. He coded the burst: Auto-upload once outside the barrier. Hexa Herald. Police bands. Everyone. 

He shoved the phone into the giant, scavenged 2-liter Rad-Cola bottle and stuffed the small teddy bear in around it for padding. He screwed the cap tight and sealed it with a weak electric charge.

He handed it back to her and nodded.

Lisa took the bottle. It felt light. Too light to carry so much weight.

The walls of the Wellhouse vibrated as claws tore at the wood outside, the smell of burnt plastic wafting in the air.

Lisa's hands trembled as she hovered over the water’s edge. The fumes made her eyes water. The tunnel mouth loomed ahead, a black throat swallowing the filth of the camp. "Go home, Teddy," she sniffled. "Tell them all. Tell them the truth."

And she tossed it.

Splash.

The bottle bobbed in the black sludge, spinning slowly as the current caught it, carrying it into the dark throat of the tunnel.

The door splintered. A gray hand reached through.

Ghost grabbed Lisa without another second delay. They were the last two out. He tied the rope around her waist, secured it to himself, and looked at her once.

They jumped.

The plunge crushed her ribs; the black water wrapped around her like cold stone, pressure swallowing her scream before it could break the surface.

On him, Romance:

Headdress: floro - Morvan's Shroud [mesh](Salvage Station)(375L)

Bracelet: ::Static:: Twine Hand Bracelet [mesh](Salvage Station)(295L)

Bottle and shot glass: Ishiku Revenge Vodka Dispenser  [mesh](Salvage Station)(470L)

Earrings: RavenBell Starlit Earrings, Moonlit [mesh](350L)

Hands: {Aii} Demonic Touch - bom/all parts, Legacy M [mesh](800L)

Hair: Dura B137 Light [mesh]

Cape: ANTINATURAL[+] Potestas Capelet / PINK EMBROIDERY [mesh]

Outfit: CURELESS[+] Nepenthes Cassock Skirt / LEGACY M [mesh]

Gauntlets: CURELESS[+] Nepenthes Gauntlets / LEGACY M [mesh]

Bellychain: Tealeaf Treasures TT - Pearl Belly Chain [Legacy M]

Heart Gemstone: RAWR! Diamond Heart Septum [mesh]

Tattoos: HISS PATTERNS FACE ROMANCE [BOM]

Setting:

Wellhouse: Candle & Cauldron C&C - The Wellspring [mesh](Salvage Station)(459L)

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

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

(click to enlarge)

STORYLINE: The brass ring shuddered 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 sputtered, 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. "Weakness masquerading as liberty."

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

“Oh, listen to you,” Gin drawled. “The last Emperor of Shadows, pouting because the world doesn’t curtsey with quite the same flourish. Monarchies fall, darling, because they are boring. 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, catching the light. "And I, for one, adore it."

The Ruler’s eyes narrowed. “Industry belches smoke. It pollutes everything. Filth. Men who sit on factory thrones possess no bloodline, no divine mandate. They are merchants playing at godhood. And you...” he leaned in, “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. Without a little glorious sin there's nothing to correct.”

The Ruler stiffened, outraged by the touch. “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, “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 hushed and venomous. “Even your goddess Ma’at, keeper of order, never demanded the destruction of chaos, only 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.

Bullets 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 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 burning 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 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 wheezed, straightening his tie, fear already 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 motioned toward 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… panache," MasterGin said. "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 resonant with terrifying certainty. "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)