The Tormentor

Awoken in complete darkness, trying to make out your surroundings, hearing the desperate screams of others. You are not alone in this hell hole. Uncovering your eyes from the hood adorned on you by your captor the room resembles an old, industrial slaughterhouse decorated with well-worn sadistic looking devices and make-shift recording equipment. The walls are stained with the splattered blood of the previous participants, those pre-destined to die at hands of The Tormentor. The air within permeates with the stench of death and disembowelment, catching in your throat you let out a loud cough. You hear a noise in the distance, he knows you are awake. A dozen screens line the wall before you, in the middle a menacing figure details the rules of the sick game you're about to partake in and the choices you will face. Your fates are tied with those around you and you must suffer the consequences of your actions. How do you weigh the value of one life above another?