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Beside her, Callan’s eyes blazed with quiet fury. She knew he was just as appalled and enraged by this wanton dehumanization. But they could not let themselves get distracted by the moral depravity of those taking part. Their focus needed to remain on locating this broadcast’s source before the violence began; they had a homicidal maniac to catch.
With a few rapid keystrokes, Roseline tracked which encrypted server nodes were routing the video feed signal. There had to be some trail they could follow back to a physical location. As she worked frantically, the live stream popped up, buffering for a few seconds before the image resolved. Roseline recognized the victim immediately.
“Oh no! It’s Moretti,” she breathed.
Callan swore viciously under his breath.
Their one promising witness had now also been turned into a plaything for the Game Master’s insatiable audience.
Roseline realized with dawning horror that this was likely punishment for their recent questioning about the gambling ring. Someone had seen Moretti get into their car.
The Game Master must have somehow been watching them. She thought she had been so careful about covering their tracks digitally, but they had missed something in real life.
Yanking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, Callan pulled a chair over to assist in any way he could. Though this technical tracing process was beyond his expertise, he knew Roseline would walk him through what she needed.
On-screen, like the others, Moretti was bound to a chair in a shadowy room. He thrashed against his restraints, spitting curses toward someone standing just off-camera. In the chat box, viewers were already flooding the comments with graphic suggestions for what pain should be inflicted on him. Her skin crawled, reading their vile words.
Roseline watched in horror as Moretti struggled against his restraints. She had never seen such a display of raw, primal fear before. The man was clearly terrified of what was about to happen to him.
Callan sat beside her, his expression grim as he took in the gruesome scene unfolding on the screen. His hand clenched into a fist, knuckles turning white as he tried to control his anger and frustration.
The Game Master stood behind Moretti, a cruel smile on his face. He picked up a small metal instrument that looked like a cross between a hammer and a chisel. With a sadistic twist in his expression, he raised it above Moretti’s head and brought it crashing down onto the man’s shoulder with a sickening crack.
Roseline winced at the sound of bone breaking against bone. She had seen enough violence in her line of work, but this was different—this was personal. She felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness wash over her as she watched Moretti scream in pain.
Callan’s grip tightened around the armrest of his chair as he tried to remain calm amid the chaos unfolding on the screen.
The Game Master continued to read suggestions from the live chat, praising viewers for their originality and thoroughness. Roseline couldn’t believe what she was hearing—people were suggesting some truly horrific things for Moretti to endure. She felt sick to her stomach at the thought of what might happen next.
All they could do was watch and wait until it was too late for Moretti—or until they could gather enough evidence to bring down the Game Master once and for all.
The Game Master continued his torture session, using various tools like whips, bats, screws, and hot oil to inflict pain on Moretti’s body while simultaneously reading out suggestions from the live chat audience members who were eagerly offering their own ideas for how best to torment him further.
She wanted to look away but forced herself to observe every detail that might offer clues, no matter how minuscule. She scanned the surroundings, taking in what little was visible of the room. Concrete floor, cinder block walls… this looked like some type of warehouse or industrial space. A heavy metal door in the background had a small rectangular window inset with wire mesh. Maybe the shipping containers were still outside. She mentally filed these environmental details away.
The unseen Game Master chuckled sinisterly before addressing his captive. His voice came through the speakers, disguised and distorted. “Mr. Moretti, welcome. I apologize for the rude accommodations, but they were the only appropriate choice given the… sensitivity of our conversation topic.”
Moretti thrashed harder against the bonds holding him. “You sick bastard! Do you have any idea who you’re messing with? I’ll have your guts for garters!”
Another eerie laugh. “Such boorish threats. I expected more creativity from a man in your profession.” The icy, mocking tone caused Roseline to shiver with fear. She could practically envision his sneer behind whatever modulator he was using to conceal his voice.
The Game Master continued smoothly, “But since you seem lacking in imagination currently, after I greet our guests, I will explain your purpose here today.”
Moretti spat at the ground. “Yeah? What purpose is that, you psycho?”
“All in due time. For now, let me properly welcome the audience.” The Game Master inclined his head toward the camera broadcasting out across the internet. “I apologize for the rushed timing of today’s… festivities. However, recent security breaches made it necessary to speed up my schedule.”
Roseline’s pulse skyrocketed. He knew they were on to him somehow. Were they only playing further into his hands now? Beside her, Callan tensed, having the same alarming thought.
The Game Master went on, “I considered handling the responsible parties quietly, in a more personalized manner. But then it occurred to me—why not take this lemon and make lemonade for us all to enjoy?” More chilling laughter echoed through the abandoned building captured on-screen.
Turning his attention back to his terrified hostage, the Game Master asked conversationally, “Now then, Mr. Moretti, would you care to explain what exactly you told the police about our operations?”
Moretti shook his head, lips pressed in a defiant line.
A low snarl escaped the Game Master. “Come now, let’s not play childish games. We both know they have been sniffing around, led by your statements. Confess what you revealed, and perhaps I will show you mercy.”
Still, Moretti refused to speak, glaring toward his unseen captor.
