He knew where he was going.  He always knew.  This place was easy to navigate.  Most roadways had convenient labels and numbers.  No need to memorize endless lines of coordinates.  To him the ally was 19.50.

A cyclist passed him without notice as he walked.  He grinned to himself.  The guy never even looked. His disguise really was perfect.  It was working as promised.  He turned down 19.50. He could hear his destination already.  It was loud.

A bum greeted him with an open hand and the further down the ally he got the more colorful the homeless got.  By the time he reached the door they were full out dressed; dressed for a party, dressed for an event, dressed to be seen.  He could see through them all.

On the inside it was louder.  No one was talking, if they were they wouldn't have heard each other.  It was like watching television with the sound down and the radio up.  Most people just moved their bodies, slowly rotting corpses cavorting to ambient bastardized beats.  He moved.  He moved through the crowd and along the back wall until he found another door.  People in the doorway moved to let him pass.  He found himself in a stairwell.

These weren't people like were in the club.  These were sodomites, degenerates, and perverts.  Some of the people weren't people at all.  There was a goat for sure.  There was also himself.  He moved away from them, physically and mentally, up the stairs.

His coat dragged on the floor as he reached his destination, the third door.  The hall was dark, so dark he could see light coming under the door and around its edges.  He reached slowly for the door handle and anticipated.

He took a deep… breath.