Lucy had traveled far, taking over an hour to get there, but finally she made it to her destination: a Goth club called The Spiked Pit.
She walked into the place, not catching anyone's attention. And with how she was dressed, she stood out like a sore thumb. Without difficulty, she headed towards a stairway at the back of the club, then ascended them to the apartment above. She walked directly towards the bedroom closet, pulling out a shredded black Victorian dress and a pair of 8-inch heels that laced up to her thighs, then proceeded to put them on. She reapplied her make-up, this time much darker and thicker, then inspected herself in the mirror.
Before coming to his place, Lucy regarded the Goth crowd with very little thought (of course, she didn't really have much thought for anything anyway, being a bimbo). They were disgusting vampire-wannabes that listened to god-awful screeching music and had way too much interest in death and hate, not to mention too much interest in the color black. But now, as she gazed upon herself in the mirror, she felt a sense of satisfaction. Goths were unique and had a culture all their own. Lucy felt privileged to be part of that culture. They weren't freaks at all. They just wanted to be different. And what was wrong with that? She looked at herself, seeing that she was the embodiment of gothic elegance. She never thought of herself as elegant before. But now, she liked the idea of it.
Smiling, Lucy Pierce descended the stairs to her club.
A moment later, the former Agatha Pierce (26-year old owner of The Spiked Pit) stepped out of her bathroom, and walked out into the world, knowing that she needed a new life, a new identity. She no longer cared about her club or the fact that her cousins Vanessa and Clair (twin Goth sisters) were visiting from out of town and would be there at any time.
