The Asylum.
Most evenings, it's a freak show. Half costume party, half fetish scene. You're almost certain to find anything you're looking for.
It is not for the faint hearted.
Yet, tonight, it's closed for a very Private Party.
Tonight it provides a service closer to the Imperial Games of Rome. A Bloodsport. Likely a combat to the Death. An event appealing to those most depraved souls who seek out snuff films or those demanding maximum justice for some terrible, irreversible, wrong.
Security is attentively at the door with a list of names. For those not on the list, their entry will be barred. For those permitted entry... Welcome.
The usually bustling club is empty. Though all of its accoutrements are on full display. Suspension gear, oddly shaped furniture, rings set in walls that affix to shiny chains, and more than one Saint Andrew's cross. All of this furniture is peripheral to the set piece erected for the evening: a floodlit metal cage.
Gripping her metal cane, tiny Martha, dressed in a simple black knee length gown with matching modest black shawl, is on sentry - standing along with the security team, trying to carefully vet those who wish to enter.
Will any Requiem completing this evening end in diminuendo or crescendo...?