Page 78 of Sadistic Retribution

“I can’t tell you that yet. What I can say is the guy taking your place is ex-military, and a former hostage negotiator. He’s trained to stay calm and level-headed in any situation. He'll be fine. His code name is Maverick.”

We chat for a bit about not only this, but about Pretty Girl. We all want the same thing—for her to come back to herself. God, I miss her.

As we talk, the screen in front of us changes. Purge taps a few buttons and starts screen recording. Maverick shows up, camera turned so we can see what he’s seeing. He flips it quickly so we can see him. He's dressed to the nines. He is wearing a black suit, a black shirt, and black dress shoes. His dirty blonde hair is neat, his blue eyes covered by black sunglasses with dark lenses.

Flipping the cam back, we notice it looks like he’s in the strip club. It seems pretty packed, girls swirling around poles. Half-dressed servers wander around with trays. Every seat near the stage is taken. Mav stands off to the side.

“That the guy?” Purge points to the screen.

“Yes, that’s him. We'd better turn our comms back on.”

Once we do, we hear Mav’s voice, speaking very low. “—Copy? Ears and eyes?”

“Yes,” both of us answer. Mav nods, placing his hands behind his back, waiting.

I see a figure moving towards him.

The guy approaching him looks to be in his fifties, maybe. Plain, brown hair—average build. He's also in a suit. He nods to Mav, and gestures for him to follow.

They walk to the back, past the dressing rooms. An invisible door opens with a retina scan, and stairs lead down to a basement. There’s a table with two chairs in the center of the room. They both sit.

The unfamiliar man speaks first. “You are the one in the e-mail, yes?” He has a slight accent, sounds slightly Italian.

“Yes,” Mav answers calmly.

“Before we go any further, I need to see your identification, and proof that you can pay for any purchases you make.”

Without hesitation, Mav pulls two cards from his inside pocket of his suit jacket, handing them to the man. The man stands, walking into an unseen area with the cards. Mav is quiet as he waits patiently.

Purge darts his eyes to me, and I shake my hand, a finger to my lips. Mav can hear anything we say.

The man comes back in, handing Mav the cards back. “Everything checks out. Welcome to The Candy Palace, Mr. Simons. I have a few questions for you first.”

Mav folds his hands in front of him. “Alright.”

“You said you were interested in fresh, tender meat? For consumption?”

“That’s right. The fresher and more tender, the better.”

Purge raises his brow, his lips set in a firm line. I feel what he’s feeling. This is so sick.

“Good, good. I need to go fetch something, please wait here,” the man says.

I look at Purge, mouthing, “You still screen recording?” He nods—good. It's perfect proof. Irrefutable proof.

The man comes back, holding a small platter. He places it in front of Mav. “Go ahead, remove the lid.”

Mav complies, and my stomach flips at seeing the contents. It's a steaming, small portion of meat that’s a pinkish-brown color, and it looks different than any other meat I’ve seen. God...

Purge's face pales but manages to compose himself.

“Please consume this in its entirety,” the man says. “Once you’re finished, I will take you to the main room.”

Mav hesitates for a fraction of a second, but does as he’s asked. The man doesn’t seem to notice it. He picks up the fork from the side of the plate, cutting off a piece. The knife glides through like butter. He lifts the fork to his mouth, letting out a fake moan as he chews and swallows. “Delicious,” he comments, then quickly finishes the portion.

Satisfied, the man stands. “Follow me, please.”

They move to the back of the basement, entering a door that once again requires a retina scan.