That was the name of the band. They had bright red Mohawks, a plethora of tattoos but seemed like lovely lads. If by "lovely" you mean if you passed them in a dark ally you'd run in the opposite direction.
I am propelling forward a stereotype. I have to live with that.
Since a picture is worth a thousand words they are not required. I WILL, however, point out some charming features:
1. The obvious fear behind that smile.
2. My hand. What on earth am I doing with my hand? I was trying fit in with the Devil-worshipers.
It, um, didn't work.
3. The sign behind my date reads: "No knives, no gangs". That's just plain discrimination.
4. The average age of the punk-rock gang Devil worshipers? 18.
5. The skeleton barrette. Pretty. You can't see, but it has a tiny gun glued at the wrist to complete the fashion forward accessory. Acessory to murder, I'm thinking.