Year 2542. Old Cybernetic, level -7 beneath the ruins of the former Warsaw Mordor. The walls are pitch black, covered in pulsing cybernetic holograms: ghosts of long-gone clubbers dancing in slow-motion, cracked pentagrams slowly regenerating themselves, and pale faces from the 2000s–2020s winking at you from the deep darkness. The air carries that signature mix of ozone from burnt coils, synthetic incense, and damp concrete. Tonight is the Goth Talon Contest '42. The rules are merciless:
Outfits strictly gothic (old rules, old schools—no compromises) Choreography at least 70% classic gothic/tribal/deathrock moves from the 2000s–2020s Zero locomotor augmentations during the dance Lighting only self-provided—what you wear or bring yourself
In the dressing room (the former boiler room), the girls prepare under a circle of emergency red light. Their hair is lightly dyed in the style of those years: deep black with purple highlights, blood-red tips, pale platinum blonde with black streaks, asymmetrical bangs falling over one eye, high ponytails, or loose waves slicked with wet-look hairspray. Four girls who are channeling the strongest visuals straight from that music video: Vira „Velvet Crucifix” Long, straight, raven-black hair falling like a curtain down to her waist, with a perfectly symmetrical fringe cut to the eyebrows. Extremely pale skin, almost white, eyes heavily lined in black with inner and outer crimson accents—her gaze is predatory, almost hypnotic. She wears a black velvet corset with a high collar and silver cross chains across the chest, underneath a torn tulle skirt down to the ankles with lace inserts. Around her neck, a velvet choker with a large red gem. She moves slowly, with theatrical, deliberate hand gestures—the classic “gothic wave” and “crucifix drop”. Kres „Last Cathedral” Hair in a deep burgundy shade, wavy, pinned high with a few loose strands falling over her face and shoulders. Dramatic makeup: matte black lips, pale cheeks, eyes framed by thick black liner and purple shadows. A long dress trimmed with black lace, underneath a latex gown with a deep neckline and sleeves cut into smoke-like wisps. On her back, an old holo projector casts ruins of a Gothic cathedral in the rain—when she does a deep backbend or spin, the holograms swirl around her like raging spirits. Szyn „Bone Choir” The most raw and old-school of them all. Hair black as pitch, straight, with a simple fringe covering one eye—the classic “bangs over one eye”. Very minimalist makeup: just black lipstick and eyeliner. A gown sewn from shredded black monastic habits, with long, wide sleeves and an asymmetrical hem. Around her neck, a rosary of small, real finger bones. No lights, zero electronics. In her hand she holds a crystal pendant with a trapped, dead firefly preserved in resin—when she rolls her hips in a tribal move, the firefly catches the red light like a tiny imprisoned soul.
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