Half Track awoke with a pain in his side. His eyes slowly lifted, revealing a dark room. The only light source was coming from a spotlight directly above him. He tried to move, but was pinned down by metal clamps around his hooves. Half Track was being held upright, restraints on all of his legs, raw from hours of friction. There was a wound in his side, with a puddle of blood beside him. He was wearing a face mask, with some sort of device monitoring his breathing. Half Track struggled with the restraints for a while, his head darting in all directions, trying to get a grasp of his location. He finally gave up, and accepted defeat.

He had heard a voice, seemingly coming from all sides. The darkness seemed to amplify the sound, causing the voice to become increasingly menacing. All Half Track could do was create a muffled cry of distress, and watch all around the room to try and figure out where the voice was coming from.

“Hello Half Track.” The voice had said.

“Oh fuck, where am I!”

Half Track was scared for his life, but tried his best to keep a calm demeanor.

It wasn’t working.

“You have probably been wondering when we would see each other again. Today is that day.”

“Fuck you!” Half Track screamed at the voice.

“For years your probability formula has decided the fate of others. The healthy have benefited while the potentially sick, have been unjustly rejected. However this formula does not take into account the pony will to live. When faced with death, who should live versus who will live are two entirely separate things. Today, your policy will be put to the test.”

Half Track released muffled screams of fear, and he struggled more against his restraints.

“There are four straps around your limbs, and you have four tests you must complete. For if you don’t, the straps on your legs will detonate. Look closely.”

A light in the middle of the room had turned on, revealing a mannequin with the same straps connected to its frontal hooves. With a violent explosion, its legs completely disappeared in a cloud of dust. Half Track’s eyes were wide with fear. He started to scream, wishing desperately that sompony could hear him.

“You have sixty minutes to complete your tests and avoid this fate, starting now.”

A timer on the wall to the right of him appeared, and the clock had started.

“You are not alone in this game. Just as you have taken loved ones away from their families, if you don’t reach the end before the timer hits zero, you will never see your family again.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Faith had been lying on the cold, hard floor for about thirty minutes. Her son had tried desperately to wake her. Pleading her to wake from her unconscious state.

“Mom! Mom wake up! Mom please…”

Faith had awaken, and got up from her resting place. She had a splitting headache.

“Where are we?” Faith had asked her son.

He had looked around, but only came with the answer Faith had expected.

“I don’t know…”

He started sobbing, shaking his head as he stared in front of him.

“What is this?” Faith had asked.

“I don’t know. Look.”

Her son had pointed over to a Television in the corner of the room. It had shown her husband strapped to an odd contraption.

“Oh my god…”

______________________________________________________________________

“Here is your first test. Your health and hereditary background put you in the highest category of success. However, the same could not be said for your adversary.”

Another light had appeared, revealing his former co-worker and best friend, Calvin singer. They both stared at each other in surprise and fear for one another. They both had a faint idea of what was going to happen.

“While only fifty two years of age, this stallion has continued to smoke even though he has a history of high blood pressure and heart disease. This demonstrates very little appreciation of the blessings of his own life. Your game will focus on the simple element, of air.”

The two turned to the monitors next to them, each with their own steady rhythmic pattern.

“Once this game begins, every time you take a breath, the clamps around your chest will close in, and crush your body. The only escape is in the other’s failure. So I ask you when faced with death, who will survive? Live or die, Half Track. Make your choice.”

“FUCK YOU!” Half Track screamed at the voice.

“Who the hell is that?!” His friend replied.

The timer had started.

Half Track heard a click, which signaled the start of the test.

“Hold your breath!” He ordered his unfortunate opponent.

They both stopped breathing, and everything went quiet.

The monitors had stopped.

Silence.

Tensions were high, each one not knowing when the other would take their next breath. The only noise in the room had been the beeping of the timer. The two were straining to keep from breathing.

Calvin was shaking from the pressure, and could not hold his breath much longer. He had started to groan, and his face had gone red.

One breath.

The clamps had closed in on his ribs, forcing Calvin to cry out in pain.

Half Track was struggling not to breathe himself. He finally couldn't hold it anymore.

Another breath.

The gears were now moving, the clamp closing in on Half Track’s body.

The two were at a stalemate. Each one about to gulp in their next set of air. But who would it be?

Calvin was taking it much worse, the years of damaging his lungs had finally come back to haunt him. Calvin had to breathe. He just had to.

But it was Half Track who took his next breath. The clamps pushing his ribs even closer. A few eventually snapped, sending a volt of pain through his entire body.

The two were groaning from intense pain, each one waiting for the other to breathe.

Calvin took another breath, and the clamps closed in once more, crushing his ribs. Blood ran down his lower leg.

He took in another breath.

Another scream of pain. So much closer to the end.

Once more, Calvin sucked in another breath.

And another. And another.

His ribs eventually snapped outward, piercing his chest, and covering the floor in front of him in gore. Blood rand down his mouth, and his eyes were wide.

Calvin went limp.

He was dead.

Half Track did his best to look away from the sight of his dead friend. The clamps had released him. Half Track ripped off his face mask, untied the strap around his chest, and fell to the floor. He had doubled over, clutching his chest in agony.

He had looked over to where he was bleeding before, and noticed a scar with a line of stitches.

“Oh fuck. What the fuck…”

Half Track finally decides to get up, and he starts walking to the next room. Inside, he finds a chicken hatchery. The cases where the chickens were kept had been smashed open, leaving glass scattered on the floor. As he had been walking, he noticed something.

Two screens had lit up, revealing the words “Take them”. Below the screens were two handles.

“Fuck that…”

Half Track continued to walk, but he heard a fast beeping. He lifted his left hoof to find that it was the explosive device strapped to his leg.

“Shit.” He knew he had to take them.

He walked back over to the handles, but was hesitant. He pulled both handles at once, and he heard a generator running. A machine had started pulling the chains connected to the handles. The room behind a wall of glass in front of him had lit up, revealing a strange doll. It had been standing on a platform, but it soon fell, causing the doll to slam into the window. It had been hanged. Half Track jumped at this.

“SHIT!”

Half Track stared at the doll, but it started talking.

“Hello, Half Track. Standing on the platforms behind me are two of your colleagues. One, your file clerk. A young healthy male with no living relatives.”

The stallion on the platform in front of him was gagged with a cloth, and he could hear his muffled cries for help.

“The other, a middle aged mare. With a family history of diabetes. According to your policy, your secretary is older, and weaker, and therefore, less worthy to survive. But you know the loss there will be to her family. While young flash will disappear without a blip on the world’s radar. Only one can exit this room and the choice of whom falls upon you. You must let go of one to save the life of the other. As you can see, the choice is not so clear when you are face to face with the people whose blood will stain your hooves. Let the game begin.”

The machine pulled the doll up into the darkness.

“Wait! NO!” Half Track called after the doll.

“No! Wait! I won’t do this!” He pleaded for the doll to keep him from making this choice.

Both of their faces stared at Half Track with pleading eyes and looks of absolute terror. Both were screaming for him to choose them over the other.

“IT’S A BUSINESS!” Half Track looked over to the mare.

“MY DECISIONS AREN'T MADE THIS WAY!”

His face was tearful, and he desperately wanted to save both of them.

The machine pulled harder on the chains, and Half Track struggled to hold on to the handles. He had to make a choice soon.

“I’M NOT GOING TO DO IT!” He screamed at the doll.

Half Track could not cope with this choice.

The machines pulled even more, almost causing him to lose his grip on the mare’s chain. He screamed in pain from keeping the chains from slipping, and for the two ponies whose lives were entirely in Half Track’s hooves.

He stared at the photos of the two ponies. Of their lives. Of their families. He had started sobbing for both of them. He had to choose.

“I’m so sorry.”

He couldn't hold them anymore. If he didn't make his decision now, he would lose his grip on both of them.

“I’m sorry.”

He let go of the chain connected Flash, releasing the binds connected to his hooves. He stared at Half Track for a moment, and screamed at him in anger.

The platform fell, killing the stallion instantly. Flash’s body slammed into the window, smearing it with blood. His body was left hanging from the neck by a makeshift barbed wire noose. The mare was bawling her eyes out. She just couldn't cope with the pressure.

Half Track struggled to keep a hold on her chain. Flash’s body was raised into the darkness above, and the mare’s hooves were freed. She pulled the gag from her mouth.

“T-Thank you.” The mare had told him in relief.

A light at the end of the hallway lit up, revealing the timer and a door. Only thirty nine minutes left.

“You try and find a way out of here, Annie. Be careful!”

The mare nodded, and Half Track hurried to his next test.

Author's Note

Warning, if you don't like swearing, this chapter is not for you. then again, this author's note is probably useless considering you have most likely read the chapter already.