“Are you sure I can wear this in public,” I asked, looking at the stranger in the mirror.  “I feel kind of exposed.”

             “That’s the whole point,” Michelle said, leaning in to add a lipstick named Ginza Red.  It made my lips look luscious, full, and inviting.  My eyes were heavily lined with a silver liner that made my black eyes seem darker somehow.  I didn’t look like myself.  Which was kind of a trip since I’d never worn makeup before.

             “I mean these,” I said, gesturing with my tendrils.  The pants, I liked the black pants, with their wide flare at my feet, flowing feel and multiple zippered pockets.  But the top, which was basically a crimson covering for my front, a hood and some straps around my back to keep it on, bared all of my tendrils.  It felt incredibly weird to be getting ready to go out yet having my tendrils on display.

             “Oh, we’re going to an industrial club with a cyber punk pop, you’ll impress people with your realistic looking tech,” she said, waving away my concerns as she stepped back to look me over.  I knew that she thought there wouldn’t be any problems other than beating people off with sticks.   She was certainly wearing the right boots to kick anyone who gave us grief, with platforms and enough spikes to make a roll of concertina wire jealous.  Her black leather skirt skimmed down to mid-thigh, held in place by a wide leather belt.  Bare skin showed at her midriff below a silver strappy top that went from her neck to to where her ribs ended. Her hair had been transformed as well, things called cyber dreads giving her a “connected to the machine” look. 

             She’d left my hair mostly alone, only adding black light reactive red beads to the end of some of my braids.  The rest was pulled into a bun held in place by some feminine magic I had yet to learn.  It left my face bare, cheekbones sharp above the full mouth she’d painted a screaming crimson.  I guess the real show was my height once I stepped into the shined black combat boots and my tendrils.  Left unbound, they tended to move through the air around me like waves on my emotional currents. 

             “The humans won’t notice if you don’t want them to,” Zothie pointed out as he sank onto the couch, remote in hand.  “Act like it’s just a cool prop and they’ll see it that way.”

             “If you say so,” I hedged, figuring I could just cause mass amnesia if I needed to.  I’d done it by accident to a coffee shop full of cranky Monday morning office workers, so I could do it on purpose to a club if needed.  “Can I at least wear a jacket to get there?  From your thoughts, I know there’s a difference between dressing to go to a club and what one can wear through the city.”

             “Of course, I planned for that and they’ve got coat check at the club,” Michelle said, stepping away to the garment bag she’d brought up to show me a zippered hoodie with a snowy white owl on the back.  “I saw this when I was on my way over and thought it would be perfect.”

             “It is very nice,” Dani chirped from the balcony.  She shifted to her deer form as she walked into the room, body sliding and expanding with each step until she was as I’d found her.  “It looks a bit like me, I think.”

             “I thought so too,” Michelle said, pointedly not looking at Dani until she was sure she was fully shifted.  Apparently, the process was nauseating to watch for Deep Ones.  I made a mental note of that, never knew when the feelings Dani evoked could be useful.

             “It hides my tendrils better than I thought it would,” I realized as I slipped it on.  Which was a nice change since most off the rack outer wear did the exact opposite. 

             “It’s from a shop that specializes in Industrial, Goth and club wear,” Michelle informed me as she touched up her own lipstick.  “I picked up my skirt from them a while ago and I’ve been picking up pieces of your outfit from all over the place for a while now.”

             “You knew you were going to take me clubbing,” I asked with a wry grin. 

             “You missed a lot because of how you grew up,” she explained, slipping her phone into her pocket.  She handed me a tube of lipstick and her wallet to put in my more than ample pockets.  My own wallet, phone and headphones were tucked in said storage space as well.  “Oh, our Uber’s here, let’s go, Cass.”

             “Yeah, we didn’t exactly get girls nights out in science prison,” I agreed as we headed for the elevator after yelling bye to Zothie.

             “Well then let’s go have one,” Michelle crowed with a grin. 

             Our driver was waiting in the hotel lobby and even knowing our destination, his eyes bugged a bit at the sight of two women dressed for goth clubbing walking up to him at one of the fancier hotels in the area.  He recovered quickly and said, “Good evening, ladies.  I’m your driver, Dan.”

             “Dan the Driver,” I noted with a grin.  “Nice to meet you.”

             “You know where the drop off for the Cat on Folsom is, right,” Michelle asked as she slipped into the front passenger seat.  I took advantage of the empty back seat to stretch out my legs. 

             “Going for a night of fun,” Dan asked, and he and Michelle made meaningless small talk as we zipped through the other cars that were out on this Friday evening. 

             I left them to chat back and forth, instead mentally reviewing what I’d been working with Zothie on- ignoring minds around me.  It wasn’t as easy as it sounded and took conscious effort to stop hearing.  I had my mind locked down as we pulled up in front of a building I wouldn’t have expected to host a goth-industrial dance club.  But the line forming outside the door said there was certainly one inside.

             I climbed out of the car as Michelle thanked Dan and opened her door for her.  She stepped out and caught the attention of more than a few other club goers as she swayed up to the security guard on door duty.

             “Hey, Eamon, been a bit,” she said with a grin.

             “Girl, it’s been a while,” he said, opening his arms for a hug.  She stepped in and whispered something to him before pulling back. 

             “Got someone new for you to meet, this is my cousin Cass,” Michelle said, gesturing for me to come closer.

             I heard the muttering of people in line as I joined them at the entrance to the club.  “Hi, Eamon, nice to meet you.”

             “I would love to know how your lily white ass is related to her,” Eamon said, broad shoulders shaking with quiet mirth.  “But later.  You two comin in tonight?”

             “Of course,” she said, pulling her ID from her pocket.  I followed suit and Eamon scanned both cards, making sure we were old enough to enter.

             Well, mine was lying because despite it saying I was 22, I was only 19.  But my ID was state issued and passed all inspections, so I didn’t sweat it.  The Family had arranged my paperwork and I had a legal ID with social security, library card from their hometown and everything to back up my “lifelong” paper trail. 

             “Looks good,” he said as he handed our ID’s back in exchange for a $20 bill from Michelle.  “You two have fun in there, let me know if you need any help.”

             “Thanks, Eamon,” Michelle said, holding a hand out to me, thinking that it was nice to skip the line.  The rest of the line grumbled as we waltzed in, but I ignored it. 

             “Your eyes, they’re like black diamonds full of fire,” she said, head tilted to the side. 

             Oh, shit.  I blinked rapidly, willing the fire away from my eyes and looked back at her.  “Is that closer to normal?”

             She grinned at me, like this was totally normal.  “Yeah, but I liked the fire better.  I’m Needles.”

             “That’s an odd name,” I blurted without thinking. 

             “Its because I sew,” she said with a laugh, spinning to show off her outfit. 

             It reminded me of one of Michelle’s ensembles, with each detail set just so for an overall goth effect.  I could read that Needles was proud of her work and wanted to see if I could tell that it was custom.  I had to nearly shout above the music for her to hear, “That’s got to be custom made for you!  Where’d you get it?”

             “I made it,” Needles said, preening.  “There was a great sale a couple weeks ago at the fabric shop by the port.”

             I had no idea where she was talking about, but I could appreciate a great sale.  The song set we’d been dancing to whispered to a close, leaving the club in sudden silence before the DJ got on, “All right, my Cats and Kittens, time for a bit of a break before we hit our next set!  Remember to tip your wait staff and we’ll be jamming again hard core in fifteen minutes!”

             A softer musical track replaced the heart-throbbing industrial and I looked to Needles.  “You should tell my friend Michelle where you got that fabric, she sews, too.  We’ve got a table over here.”

             Michelle was sitting at the booth she’d reserved earlier.  It was amazing how much easier she made life sometimes.  She waved to me as we approached.

             “Cass, this is Monroe, he’s one of the part time DJ’s here,” Michelle said, introducing to me to the hawked man next to her.  His clothing was standard goth club wear- snug pants, dripping chains, combat boots similar to mine and a mesh vest-shirt thing.  “Monroe, this is my cousin Cassandra.”

             “Hi,” I said, nodding to him as I sat down and scooted in enough for Needles to join us.  “This is Needles, she sews.  She got her fabric from a shop I figured you should know about.  Needles, this is Michelle, my cousin and her buddy Monroe.”

             “Lots of new people,” Needles said, eyes skittish as she perched on the edge of the booth.  She seemed jumpy and a quick glimpse of her mind showed me that some people could start nice and then be asshats.  I caught images of those that had tricked her before and made a note to have some fun with them when I found them.  “My real name is Luna.”

             “I’ve heard of you,” Michelle said, talking over me.  “You designed that dress that won at Punk Pride Prom last month.”

             “Yeah, that was me,” Needles said bashfully.  She thought of herself as Needles so I did the same.  “Did you have an entry?”

             “Nah, was too busy helping Cass with her non-profit start up,” Michelle said and the table’s conversation switched over to talking about our goals for helping the underprivileged in the city. 

            “I’m thinking about buying an apartment building for low-cost housing,” I said.

            “Not more real estate,” Michelle said with a groan.  “At this point, I’m going to need an assistant so I can be your assistant.”

            “Can I put in a resume,” Needles said, half joking, half serious.

            “Lets go dance some more and we can talk after the next set,” I interrupted as the music started again. 

             “I guess you like it,” Michelle asked with a wink.

             “Just a fucking lot,” I answered as we found a space on the floor.   I needed enough room for my tendrils to sway with me, which attracted more than a few gasps wondering how I got them to move like that. 

             “I love your animatronics,” Needles shouted over the music as we danced next to each other.  I reached out to her with a trendle and she took the limb, letting me pull her closer to spin around me.  Apparently she’d had real dance classes in the past because as I guided her around me, she added flourishes I wouldn’t have thought of.

             Grinning myself, I raised my hands, tendrils spinning the smaller woman around me as we swayed to a beat I could feel in my bones.  We ended up with a few more watchers, the throb and rhythm of so many around me like a power up I’d never felt before.  I absorbed it in and fed it back out, hyping the crowd around us as we all swayed and danced.

            I saw flashes in the shadows around me before I felt Michelle tug on a tendril.  I let out a yip and spun to face her, pulling Needles to my side as I did so.  “What was that for?!?”

            “Your eyes,” Michelle said pointedly.  “They were lighting up again.  Dim the disco act, Psy.”

            “Fuck,” I muttered, closing my eyes.  Using my abilities, I could see through Needles’ eyes as she leaned into look up at me, my eyes glimmering even through my lids.  That wasn’t something that could be explained away with a prosthetic or whatever.  Looking through her eyes, I caught her thoughts too.

            She can’t be human, I can feel her moving those tentacles.  Is she like…

             “Tendrils,” I corrected out loud without thinking.  I was failing all over the place.

            “What,” she whispered.

             “Take these,” Michelle said, handing me a pair of wrap around sunglasses. 

            I slipped them on and sighed.  They blocked my eyes from shinning but made it a bit harder to see around me.  Especially with the light of my eyes reflecting back at me.  “I think I need a break.”

            “Let’s go up to the roof,” Michelle said, reaching for my hand.  “It’s VIP access only.”

            “Come on,” I said, holding my other hand out to Needles. 

            “I don’t have access,” she replied, though she took my hand as we threaded through the dancers.  Without thinking, I used my tendrils to block sawing arms form hitting us as we moved across a tightly packed area of the dance floor.  I saw another person get pushed away from me before I could course correct them.  I knew it wasn’t Michelle, who was leading the three of us.

            I looked at Needles with a raised eye brow. 

            “We can talk outside,” she yelled over the music, not realizing she didn’t have to yell.

            I nodded and turned to focus on the path that Michelle was cutting for us by bulling her way through.  We reached a door marked “VIP ONLY!” that was guarded by another security member.  He took one look at Michelle, did a neck bow thing and opened the door for us. 

             Michelle led us up the stairs behind the door like some kind of crack-the-whip game of goth girls. Time to go have a chat.