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?