[Rem]

Rated M for Mature. 8D

Now that they had the fake ID out of the way, Eric led Michael to a row of stores a few blocks from his friend's decrepit flat. It was a dim, dirty little street, but each window was lit up with strings of lights or artistically-shaped neon signs. There was a gallery, two shops that sold 'adult' goods, three clothing stores, a few that sold various odd sundries and a brewery; the street was alive with freaks, people in black leather or vinyl, people with tattoos and piercings everywhere there was skin, people with dyed hair cut in elaborate, insane stylings. The clothing stores proudly displayed rubber dresses, boots tall enough that tripping would result in a broken ankle, bondage gear, and clothing that didn't even look like it was meant to be worn. This place would be overrun with hipsters and afterwards, yuppies in a few years time but right now it was still underground, still unknown and undiscovered enough that it's regular denizens walked freely, letting their freak flag fly.

It was here that Eric led Michael into a store that boasted a manniquin in its window dressed from head to toe in crimson red vinyl. "Let's get you in something more ah...appropriate," Eric grinned, eyeing Michael's outfit. "You look like one of those kids in the Homeless Runaway special reports." He spied something on a rack and held it up, holding back snickers. "How about this?"