Cheating Dawn

by Sparrow9642

Rating: mature
Tags: Death, Alternate Universe, Sweetie Belle, Thriller, Gore, Original Character, Button Mash, Dark, Equestria Girls, Suicide / Self Harm, Horror, Profanity, Violence
Length: 10110

Button Mash is forced into a game of survival and death to save Sweetie Belle from assured death

Forced into a game of life or death, Button Mash must overcome demented traps and challenges in order to save his beloved Sweetie Belle from death at the hands of the game's orchestrator, Gamemaster, before dawn arrives.

Published 2021-10-31 23:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2021-10-31 23:00:01 UTC

The Trial of Button Mash

The rattling of chains stirred Button Mash from his long slumber, waking to an unfamiliar place he had never seen before. He sat on a concrete floor, his hands and feet held by restraints attached to chains. The only thing lighting the room was one lone light descending from the ceiling, giving him clarity as far as the ends of his limbs and the chains slinking off into the distant darkness.

The smell was that of a stagnant mildew and unhealthy amounts of dust, and upon further rattling from the chains as he came to, rubbing his head and eyes free of any residue, reality hit Button immediately. He immediately panicked and started to move around sporadically at a rapid pace, pulling on the chains, scrambling to his feet, and breathing rapidly in fear.

"Help!" he shouted, continuing to tug at the chains and bruise his limbs with the metal restraints.

His plea went unheard like a dying breath, and as he continued to tug the chains more and more, something happened that immediately made him seize.

The remaining lights of the room burst to life, blinding him instantly.

He squinted as his eyes slowly started to adjust to the brightness, but once he came to full clarity, he felt his stomach turn at the sight before him.

He was enclosed in a wide room with brick walls and a concrete floor, but that wasn't what turned his stomach; attached to the ends of the chains were four small metal pillars with wires attached, all leading to a battery in the corner of the room.

Next to it, stood a tall, slender, and fully clothed figure. They wore a long robe with a hood over their head, hiding their face and identity, and cupped in their hand was a rectangular controller of sorts.

"Hey! Help me! Get me out of this!" Button pleaded to the stranger.

"I cannot help you," the stranger said calmly. "You can only help yourself to victory."

Button grew confused and somewhat angry as he continued to stare at the cloaked figure.

"What do you mean?! W-what's going on!?" Button questioned.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Gamemaster, and I've decided to give you an opportunity to prove yourself. All of your life you've played a variety of games, so now you will get the opportunity to survive a real game. In this game I've created for you, you will have to use knowledge you've gained from the games you've played to survive and make choices that will decide your fate, shall you make it to the end."

Button was terrified. Who was this person that had thrown him into this horror show? He didn't recognize the voice and had never had a fallout with someone to form any grudges, so who would even pull something like this?

"Do I even get a choice!?" Button questioned.

"That is your first decision to make," Gamemaster confirmed. "Will you play? Whatever you decide will have consequences."

Button didn't even need a second thought to decide.

"No! I don't want anything to do with this twisted game!" Button decided.

"Hmm. Are you sure?" Gamemaster offered. "The consequences could be dire. Sweetie might be disappointed that her knight in shining armor chose to let her die."

Button felt his emotions culminate immediately, rising to the surface in an eruption of anger and tears.

"Where is she?! What have you done to her!?" Button exploded.

"Safe and well, but only temporarily. The only way to find and save her is to play," the captor stated calmly. "Shall you survive and make all the right choices, you will be reunited with your wife once again. Now, I ask again, will you play?"

Button had no choice. He shook away his tears and answered.

"I will play, win, and then rip your throat out, whoever you are," he growled.

"Excellent. Let's get started then, player," Gamemaster confirmed. "In this game there are three levels, each being harder than the last. The main challenge is that you only have until dawn to win and save your beloved Sweetie Belle, so I suggest you move quickly. If you don't complete the game by dawn, Sweetie Belle will die and you'll immediately lose.

The first level will be the most simple, shall you figure out how to escape it, so allow me to explain how you win this level. Your restraints are currently attached to an electric circuit powered by the battery at my feet, a circuit that, after three recharges, will kill you.

Somewhere in this room is a key to all four of your restraints. You must use your knowledge of games to find the key and free yourself, before it's too late. No cheat sheets or special moves will save you, only yourself. Let the game begin."

Gamemaster clicked the button on the controller their hand, and immediately, the sound of charging electricity became audible, causing Button to quickly act. He first tried his pockets, then rapidly patted himself down like a madman, feeling for anything abnormal. He got nothing, so he turned his attention back to the room and did his best to ignore the near-peaking of the charge.

His attention was averted though, watching as his captor worked toward the exit, costing him precious time.

"Get back here!" Button commanded.

"I hope to see you at the next level," they assured, placing down what Button assumed was a walkie talkie.

The cloaked figure disappeared from sight, and in that time, Button had only tried to lunge out at his captor, causing a horrid surge of electricity to pulse throughout his entire body upon full charge being met.

The surge lasted for five seconds that seemed like forever to Button, up until he was dropped to the ground and struggled to move back to his feet, the battery beginning its second recharge.

He knew now that he couldn't afford to lose anymore time, the electricity's effects still enveloping his body, as much as the smell of burning flesh.

He struggled to breathe as he focused on thinking hard. What games had he played with traps like these, and more importantly, how did they escape? It was difficult to think straight, but through his heavy breathing and blurred vision, he found the solution.

"The bricks! One has to be loose that's within my reach!" he clarified confidently, moving to the left wall.

He hugged the wall as he sporadically patted each brick, feeling for a loose one. He trembled at the charge reaching near-full, continuing to practically massage the bricks, up until he found that the left wall was blank of any loose bricks. That failure had cost him dearly, hearing the charge reach full and being met with another surge of electricity.

This one was worse as he collapsed to the floor and scrambled on the floor in unadulterated pain. He tried to crawl to the right wall as an advantage, but his muscles wouldn't comply, and all he could do was take it.

The surge ended after another excruciating five seconds, and Button was surprised he was still conscious afterward. The same essence of burning flesh and inability to function followed, and Button was almost positive he couldn't get back up. His muscles were fried and shot, but Button's will to save Sweetie Belle carried him back onto his feet, stumbling over to the wall and unconsciously feeling for a loose brick.

The final recharge was already a quarter of the way done by the time he got to where he currently was, so he worked fast, grazing the wall and violently patting each brick. He came to a seize by the chains at the horrifying discovery of no loose bricks, and immediately grew confused and terrified, hearing the recharge grow closer to his fatality.

He knew he couldn't re-check each brick; there simply wasn't enough time, so he thought fast about some other solution.

Then he remembered that there was another wall; the one he'd woke up against.

He scrambled to the only remaining wall, and violently navigated the wall. He tapped each brick as fast as lightning, feeling nothing shift, up until there was a rupture in the cycle of tapping the wall like a madman. A brick near the spot he had resided at the start of this nightmare had caved into the wall; a sight he acted quick in response to.

He grabbed the brick and threw it across the room, reaching into the open hole and finding something small. He didn't waste any time and took the key from its resting place, gripped it, and moved to the keyhole of his right leg restraint.

Trying to ignore the charging sound, now eighty-percent finished, he lodged the key into each of his restraints provided keyholes. His right leg was freed first, then his right arm, and left leg. The left arm restraint was more stubborn, costing him precious time, and by the time he got the key lodged in correctly, the third surge had met full charge and engulfed Button's entire body yet again.

Button seized at his fatal blow, but froze upon a sudden surprising realization; the force of that shock wasn't anywhere close to the previous two. It was bad, but the pain was mild in comparison, and he was managing to stay fully conscious.

Upon one glance at the ground, he found the answer as to why. He had only one restraint attached, so only one catalyst was receiving the electricity rather than four. Therefore, reducing the electricity by a ton.

The surge ended and Button quickly proceeded to release the restraint lodged to his right wrist, throwing it to the ground with a hard clang. Examining his wounds, Button found that the areas the restraints had resided were burned majorly, and certain parts of his body were numb, probably meaning he had taken nerve damage.

The third round had still done a number to his body, and he wobbled on his feet, struggling to stay conscious. Eventually, all of the damage proved too much for his body to handle and Button collapsed like a stone. While he tried to fight to stay awake, Button couldn't beat his body's desire, and in no more than a flash, he passed out.

Button awoke with a startle, his vision blurry and muscles shouting in pain. He muttered grunts and gritted his teeth as he slowly worked his way to his feet, using the wall as a support to keep his balance. Upon one glance of the room, he remembered everything and why his body currently felt as if it were made of lead, and more importantly, what he needed to do next.

Once he felt safe to walk, he carefully paced himself over to the walkie talkie that his unidentified captor had left behind for him to obtain. He picked it up and pressed a button on the side to transmit a message to them, trying to not slur his words.

"I'm alive," he practically whispered. "What's next in this fucking sick game of yours!?"

A short silence followed, but eventually a voice came through on the opposite end of the line. However, the voice was not of Gamemaster; muffled pleas of Sweetie Belle came through, sending Button's emotions into overdrive.

"Sweetie! You bastard! If you lay a finger on her, I'll-

He was interrupted by a chuckle.

"I assure you, she's unharmed," the dark voice clarified. "I simply wanted to remind you of what will happen if you fail."

"Enough! Just tell me what I need to do!" Button demanded.

"Yes, yes. Proceed out of the cellar, go right, and follow the path to the next level. You will receive your instructions shortly. I suggest you hurry though; the clock is ticking."

The radio went dead with silence, to which Button growled at.

"We'll see who lives in the end," he muttered under his breath, working toward the exit of what he now knew was a cellar.

He carefully worked up the stone steps and pushed open the two wooden slabs that worked as a door, breathing in the fresh night air. His lungs welcomed the intakes of the cool thin air, dancing at the shift from the musty cellar dust to the healthy essence of oxygen, but Button couldn't relish in the moment; he was more focused on moving quickly.

He had no idea how long he'd been out, and dawn was his deadline. For all he knew, dawn could've been five minutes away, but he didn't even want to think that. He just followed the path, up until he came into what looked like a back yard of a house. There was one lone dirt path to a small set of wooden steps and the door to the house, illuminated by the provided porch light.

Off to the side on a side rail, something small hung from it by a rope. Button guessed it was a key from its size, and as he worked further into the yard, it became obvious. With that clarification, he dashed to the porch and snatched the key from the side rail, quickly placing it into the keyhole of the door. He turned the key, but was abruptly disappointed when the key seized.

It wasn't the right key to the door.

That action suddenly caused the yard to light up like a firecracker, and again, Button was met with a scene of unspeakable horror. Four people with their heads covered by a black bag hung from the branches of a tree that had overgrown the majority of the vicinity. Their sounds were muffled, meaning they were most likely gagged, and each person’s chest was labelled with a certain symbol.

They didn't seem to have any significance, but Button couldn't be too sure. Then he saw the axe and chainsaw, and that alone nearly made him lose his stomach. He could connect the dots and the solution was something he didn't even want to imagine.

Gamemaster's voice solidified it all, erupting from some nearby speakers.

"Welcome to level two, player," the voice stated coldly. "I do hope you've recovered from level one, because you'll need all of your strengths to make it through this level. Before you are four individuals, each bearing a unique symbol that will spell out your key to victory, but I'm afraid that it won't come without sacrifice.

Only one holds the key to the door, and I'm afraid the only way to get to it is through the tools you've been provided, because it rests in one of their stomachs.' You have a one-in-four chance to strike correctly, if you shall miss, well, you'll just have to keep offering sacrifices.

I suggest you choose wisely. The axe is less risky, but more slow to kill and reach the organ, while the chainsaw is faster to kill, but has the risk of striking the key, shall you miss. How many lives will you sacrifice before you receive the key to your victory? Choose wisely."

The voice died to silence, leaving Button to choose what he considered the best way to earn victory in this sick and twisted level. The obvious answer was simple; he didn't want to kill anyone over a damn key! However, the harsh reality, if he wanted to save his beloved, was that he had no choice.

He felt his stomach turn in knots as the four unidentified victims erupted into muffled pleas of mercy. Listening closely, he was able to identify at least one as a female, but it didn't settle his mind any more at the fact that these innocent strangers were about to die horribly.

Sweat seeped from his pores as he identified each of them separately, looking for any clues as to who might be the right choice. The symbols on their chests were impossible to depict as any sort of clue, and none of them stood out from one another as unique; it was literally going to be a 1 in 4 chance to choose right.

He started to cry as he eyed his weapons of choice; one fast to kill but potentially destroy the key, one slow but less likely to break the key upon impact.

He held his head with his teeth gritted wildly. His thoughts were pondering things he never thought would even cross his mind, turning his stomach more and pounding the ground with his fists in hope of someone to stop this madness.

No one came.

Nothing changed.

He had to kill innocent people to save Sweetie.

He decided his weapon of choice, getting to his feet and grabbing the chainsaw by its provided grip. The chainsaw would kill them faster than the axe, and the quicker he could end the carnage, the better. With hesitation, he pulled the ignition string on the machine, and the engine roared to life like a waking beast.

Pushing the throttle a few times to keep it running, he dragged himself to the victim more towards the center of the yard, thinking that maybe the center victim was the right target.

It was a very loose thought.

Whimpering and shaking in terror and sadness, he placed the head of the chainsaw just above where the stomach would reside, then whispered one thing before gripping the throttle.

"I-I'm so s-sorry…

The chainsaw revved to life and in a mix of muffled screams of pain, blood splatter, and guts falling to the ground, the chain's blades cut through the body like butter.

Button continued to whimper and sob through the carnage, doing his best to keep focus upon the blood splattering his face and body constantly, up until the rigidness of the blade's path ended and became free again. The body convulsed and bled severely as Button moved to the ground in search of the stomach, digging through each slimy and bloody organ like a carnivore devouring its meal.

Button knew very little about anatomy, nor had he ever seen an actual human organ system in his life. He was literally digging blindly, checking each organ for the glimmer of the key's metal.

Five minutes in, he finally found the stomach, but to his disappointment and horror, no key resided inside of the rubbery sack.

He had chosen wrong.

He screamed into a breakdown, getting back to his feet and picking up the chainsaw again. He felt sick as he moved to the next body. There was no sort of strategy to this; he was just taking shots in the dark until he got the right target. Therefore, he had no plan as he engaged the throttle yet again on the next body in line, hearing only a cacophony of sounds in similarity to his first target's body being shredded in half.

Blood coated his body again, and the victim shook wildly in an attempt to escape their torment as the blades navigated through their organs, nerves, and spine. Button only grew more distraught and nauseated at the horror and disturbing scene before his eyes as the chainsaw sliced and killed the innocent stranger more and more.

Then the rigid feeling stopped and the lower half of his victim fell into the pile of macabre contents and unholy amounts of blood. Now that he knew what the stomach looked like, he saved himself time by just sliding the many others organs out of the way, and this time, only forty seconds in, he found the stomach.

He prayed and pleaded for this to be the correct victim, but upon emptying the contents of the organ, no key met the ground.

"Goddammit!" he shouted in defeat, feeling his mind slowly start to fall into madness.

Between his actions, the smell and sight of blood, the unholy amounts of gore, and all the carnage, Button could feel his mentality starting to slip.

He got back up and gripped the chainsaw again, walking to his third victim. His lack of mentality had caused him to become numb to the macabre, shredding into his third victim almost unconsciously. The same thing replayed as he navigated; more blood, more gore, more muffled screams, more struggling, more loss of hope.

He knew he had no choice but to kill these people, and while he was forever sorry and regretted everything he had done to them, he knew he'd never forgive himself, nor would Celestia. He felt selfish for taking the lives of others for his own wants, but at the same time, was he being selfish in saving Sweetie by killing innocent people?

It was a double-edged sword with no right answer. Even if he had chose to stop then and there, would these people have been spared or just killed in the aftermath?

Button didn't know, being snapped out of his thoughts by the thump of the lower body of victim #3 meeting the ground. Reluctantly, he returned to the ground and dug through the pool of blood and organs for the stomach, finding it rather quick. He clenched his fist on the rubbery organ, emptying its contents and hoping for the nightmare to finally be over.

No key exited the organ.

Button threw the organ across the yard and screamed in agony; he had ended up having to sacrifice all of them to win. It couldn't have just been one or two sacrifices. No, it had to be all four.

Button eyed his last victim, realizing it was the lone female victim of the mix, and immediately he realized that he was an idiot for not seeing the obvious answer to which one had the key.

She was the only female, an obvious giveaway and clue, but at this point, he just wanted this nightmare to be done and over with, so he grabbed the chainsaw one last time, walked to where he was at a good angle to start shredding her in half, and once he had a good spot, went full throttle.

He sobbed, screamed, and broke into insanity as he cut deeper and deeper into the lady. Her muffled wails and screams broke through whatever was gagging her mouth with each second that passed, and Button could only do nothing but shut them out as he finished the task.

Her lower half fell, and Button dived to the ground, throwing the chainsaw across the yard. He searched through the entire carnage, finding the stomach quickly and, hastily, squeezing out the contents. It took a second, but after another good clench of the rubbery and bloody organ, a small metal key collapsed to the ground, its surface reflecting in the light of the yard.

Button quickly grabbed the glimmering object from the ground and hastily made his way to the door again, lodging the key into the keyhole and turning it violently.

A click followed, confirming that this horrible nightmare was finally over, or at least for the time being.

Before entering, he gazed back one last time at the four dead and mutilated bodies hanging like additions to the tangled and overgrown branches of the tree. The sight made him sick to his stomach, but despite how he felt about himself and what he'd done, he knew he had to keep going.

He only spoke two words before entering through the door.

"I-I'm s-so sorry…

It was dark inside, the only light source being the light from the back yard seeping through the cracks of the boarded windows. Dirt and foliage from years of no maintenance and nature overgrowing the structure covered the ground, and the smell was stagnant and similar to the cellar.

Button navigated carefully, feeling like the house's dilapidated ceiling could collapse at even the slightest hasty movement. He felt his surroundings with the lightest touch he could muster and eventually came to a wide area that he guessed had been a living room at some point in history.

In the middle, a cheap wooden table littered with termite trails stood idle, a flashlight and tape recorder on its top surface. He knew those were his next keys to figuring out how to get closer to saving Sweetie Belle, so he grabbed both and clicked on the tape recorder, hearing the familiar cold voice of Gamemaster speak again.

"First, I want to congratulate you on making it this far, player, seeing that not many can handle sacrificing others to save themselves. No, they'd rather suffer at the fact they were too weak to save themselves and win their prize at the end of the line. You've proven yourself stronger than just a casual person in everyday society, and for that I applaud you.

However, the celebration will have to wait, because level three will truly test your persistence in winning the reward you seek.

The house you are in is heavily fragile and dangerous to navigate, but you'll have to do so in order to find the next thing you'll need to pursue your victory. There are three unboarded rooms in the house, one containing a key to the side door and a map to the coordinates where you will find the end of my game, as much as your prize.

Use the flashlight to guide your way through, but search carefully; as I stated, one wrong step could mean your death in a flash.

Oh, and there is another catch; you will have to hurry quickly before the poisonous gas escaping the vents causes your organs to fail in a matter of ten minutes or less. Given the age of the house, I'm sure the gas is spreading through more than just the vents, so I suggest you hurry with mighty care.

Do you have the skills to outwit time and survive? Step lightly, player."

The voice died down, and Button panicked, raising his shirt over his nose to reduce the amount of gas he was breathing in. He knew that wouldn't be enough to outlast the limited time he had, so he made quick action, flicking on the flashlight, and carefully started back toward the area he had entered into.

Once he got to it, he flashed the light into the vicinity, seeing nothing but littered garbage, dirt, and overgrowth. Despite it appearing as nothing more than a red herring, he quickly surveyed the area, kicking over things that may have been hiding the items, but in the end, he'd just wasted time.

Cussing in his mind to avoid any collapses, he carefully scurried back to the living room, and eyed the dilapidated staircase leading to the second floor. Beads of sweat started to flow from his pores, realizing that could be the only place to go.

Then he remembered the tape.

Step lightly, player.

Was that a clue or reminder? If this was being portrayed as a game, it would be a clue, seeing many video games gave hints through riddles and puzzles. Button was still unsure about it, knowing it could've also been a trick, and if it was a clue, was this the place it applied to?

Knowing time was not on his side and having nowhere else to go, he decided to try it. Being very careful, he put as less of his weight as he could on the rotten wood step, a creak escaping its splintery body as he did.

It was loud and very hazardous to the fragile frayed walls and ceilings, potentially being loud enough to collapse the entire thing.

He cussed again in his head, being met with a sudden urge to cough. The cough erupted, slightly muffled by his shirt, but not enough. Quickly, he covered his mouth with his free hand and continued to cough violently. The cough lasted longer than he would've preferred, but it eventually died down.

However, upon one gaze of his bloodsoaked hand and the evident taste of blood in his mouth, he felt a chill go down his spine; he was wasting too much time.

"I need to hurry!" he commanded himself in a low panicked voice.

Ignoring the supposed clue he'd been given, he just sprinted up the stairs as lightly as he could, finding his way to the top and stopping softly.

Upon the warm light of the flashlight illuminating the area, he jumped in shock. The entire upper floor was a nightmare; the floorboards looked as if they were not even attached to any support, holes littered the vicinity, and the area he had to go to barely had any floorboards to walk on.

He moved the flashlight around, looking for anything provided to him that could assist him in getting to even one of the rooms. Luckily, he spotted something somewhat-helpful in the light of the flashlight; a stack of healthier boards that extended in length far enough to reach the rooms. However, he was unsure if the rotten floors could handle his weight.

"I have to at least try," he assured himself. "If I lose, I wanna lose trying my all! Otherwise, all of this was for nothing."

His mind was made up, so he maneuvered the fragile floor with light steps, grabbed three boards for a start, and carefully assembled them from the point he was standing at to the doorway of the first bedroom. He did his best to hurry, knowing his time was growing slim, and once he had all three down, wide enough for him to walk safely, he took slow and long steps to his target.

He felt like he was walking on thin wire, feeling his limbs shake along with the boards as he found his grip on the doorframe, and lightly stepped into the small room, flashing the flashlight along the inside. The room had more than likely been a child's room from the paint job, but that was the last thing on his mind as he carefully navigated the room, picking up and excavating everything that could be hiding his needed items.

To his greatest disappointment and terror, no such items were in said room, meaning he'd wasted even more precious time. His punishment was received fast, another set of bloody coughs being muffled by his hand and a sudden wave of nausea and dizziness plaguing his senses.

The coughing grew worse with each second, and his vision grew as blurry as murky water. He stumbled as he worked back to the doorway, trying to keep his balance and grip on the flashlight.

Struggling, he flashed the light across the hall into another room, his vision struggling to adapt well enough for him to see clearly. He could hear his heartbeat starting to slow like a dying engine, and found himself starting to sink to the floor against the doorframe like an anchor.

Double vision had taken hold of his sight now, and he could feel his muscles starting to weaken and collapse in unison. His breathing had become faint and raspy, and his senses were starting to become an obsolete fragment in his mind.

Button was starting to succumb to the effects of the gas, and faster than he had anticipated.

"No… I need to get…

His voice was a whisper, and all his body was telling him to do was sleep. Sleep, and the pain, agony, regret, and terror would all go away.

He could be free of that house and the Hell he'd been forced into.

He wanted to obey, but some distant fragment of his mind was telling him to get up, but his body wouldn't let him.

He was too weak.

His eyes grew heavy and started to slip close to what he felt would be a short sleep.

Closer. Closer. Closer.

Black met his vision, and in less than mere seconds, he was gone.

…

…

…

A sound. Distant and faint, but faint enough for him to hear clearly. It was familiar and sweet sound, up until it grew clearer and clearer.

Then…

Muffled screaming and pleading

Button's eyes shot open like a rocket, standing back up and taking in a deep breath of air, holding it tightly. Flashing the light across the hall again, he eyed the room illuminated by the light. It was wide and empty, absent of everything except for a single bed and deteriorated nightstand. He couldn't assume it was absent of the two items, but at the same time, his time was still very little, and he couldn't afford to reposition the good boards he'd been provided for a guaranteed safe trip into the next room.

He had to move quickly, so he just threw all caution he had out the window and jumped into the next room, landing as softly as he could possibly manage. The boards creaked like a Siren's song upon landing, but luckily he'd been spared the house collapsing. Not wanting to test his luck any further, he started excavating everything and flashing the light in every direction.

He could feel his lungs starting to give in, but he just ignored the evident struggle and searched everything. He yanked out the drawers of the dresser and lifted the stained mattress high, finding nothing except what you expect; dust, holes, and debris.

He was about to give up, until he noticed something out of place on the side of the mattress; something that seemed new in comparison to the many aged holes and rips in the mattress; a single large cut that looked like it had been made by a large knife.

Button didn't hesitate and shoved his hand into the area where the cut had punctured the surface of the mattress. The inner fabric was thick, damp, and moldy, but Button ignored his thoughts on the consistency and just dug deeper and deeper. He was up to his elbow in the mattress when his fingers met something cold and metal, examining it more and eventually gripping it enough to pull it out.

It took all of his strength, losing the breath he had held for a good amount of time in the struggle, but he eventually managed to pull the object from the guts of the mattress. He took in another deep breath to hold for as long as he could, and turned to what he had pulled out of the mattress.

In his hand was a dark-green military tackle box with a key lodged into its provided keyhole; the key to the box.

Quickly, he grabbed and turned the provided key, hearing a click and feeling the top lid of the box release pressure. He wasted no time and flopped open the top, the inside consisted of a key and folded up paper with geographical illustrations; the map with the coordinates.

Starting to get dizzy, he grabbed both of the objects, his flashlight, and proceeded to get out of that house. He jumped across the hall again, hearing the weak floors creak as he landed, and just sprinted across his makeshift bridge as fast as he could.

He couldn't be slow, so he just hastily sprinted down the steps again and allowed the flashlight to guide him to the other side of the house where the side door awaited his arrival to freedom. There was a hall just to the left of where he'd came in from from the back, so he just ran and was relieved to find a lone door.

His vision was starting to fade again, so he rushed to grab the key he'd obtained from the tackle box, shoved the key into the keyhole, turned it, and bashed it open into the outside air.

He collapsed to the ground, taking in heavy breaths of fresh oxygen and coughing from his breathing resuming normally yet again. He felt like he'd taken his first breaths again, as he just basked in the fresh essence of the night air again, thankful he'd been given some form of a second chance to escape assured death.

Once he'd collected himself fully, he stood back up and grabbed the key from the door of the house, knowing the finale was beyond here. He unfolded the map he'd been provided, quickly finding a route to a specific destination drawn out by a red marker. The specific endpoint rang no bells, but then again, he wasn't the best with geography, so he just did his best to figure out what he needed to do, up until he noticed a faint red tint through the paper.

He flipped over the map and found a pair of words written in red marker. A clear message from Gamemaster.

Take the car parked and drive to the marked destination. Take the route on the map, and don't try any other route, otherwise the car will explode. It's implanted with an explosive linked to the tracking device I've programmed into its system, so if that course is averted, that explosive won't hesitate to give you a game over.

Your victory will be celebrated there. I feel you'll find the place very memorable.

Button looked outward towards the road, noticing a red car resting on the curb, and eyeing the area he had been dragged to.

It was dead. No life, no sound, no streetlights. He was clearly on some older side of town where older unfit living areas now resided as antiques, or in this case, areas for serial killers to commence their twisted games.

Letting out a long breath, Button walked to the car and got into the vehicle. Closing the door, he placed the map to where he could see the route and follow it smoothly, then he started up the vehicle and started to drive to the finale to this nightmare.

"Let's end this."

The drive had been long and quiet, Button's thoughts being his only company the entire way. The route had been a trek through the backroads of the town, the roads unkempt, rusted signs reflecting in the headlights, wildlife playing suicide, and no sign of any other vehicle in sight. It had been uneventful, and upon arriving at his destination, he had been surprised and somewhat struck with nostalgia.

It was the old arcade from his early days as a kid.

It had been decrepit and boarded up for years now, after Button had taken interest in more than just gaming. Puberty hit and he started to get around more and engage in things you'd expect teens to do, stupidly and with no regrets whatsoever.

Button felt the memories flow by in a single wave reminiscence as he closed the car door and moved toward the building, unsure what was going to happen. He hadn't caught any sign of a clock in his drive because of the route, so he still had no eye or ear of how close it was to dawn. Luckily, he couldn't see any sign of the sun peeking over the horizon, so that was a good assurance that he wasn't too late to save Sweetie.

He walked to the back of the building and looked for any open windows, but saw none, and the door was clearly locked. He was just about to cuss until he saw a lone walkie talkie resting on a trash can, grabbing it hastily and pressing the proper button to transmit a message.

"I'm here. Now let her go, you asshole!" he commanded.

"Patience," the voice replied calmly. "Your victory party is just getting started. Come, have some cake with us."

The voice died, but upon the silence of the radio, the back door unlocked and opened ominously.

Carrying the flashlight, Button entered the building, caution at the highest of levels as he walked. The inside of the building was as expected, but not as ridden as Button would've thought after all the years it had been shut down. It was surprisingly clean, with the exception of little spider webs and minor debris littered on the floor where the game consoles used to sit, their impressions being enough of a confirmation.

His memories of playing for hours and spending every drop of his allowance started to flood his vision as he found that big red arrows had been placed on the ground, directing him to his next and final stage.

The confrontation he'd been anticipating since level one.

The final boss.

Following the arrows past the indents of where the games once sat in rows neatly, he entered a second room that looked to be completely boarded up from the inside. The many indents clarified it had once been full of many machines that he and many other kids had played on over a thousand times, but outside of his nostalgic thoughts, he felt like he wasn't alone in the room.

Then the lights kicked on, and in the middle of the room was Gamemaster.

"Welcome," they greeted in the same calm voice, causing fire to blaze in Button's eyes.

"You! I've played your damn game, now where is she!" he commanded.

"She is here, but the game isn't over yet," Gamemaster said. "You still have one last thing to do."

"You told me if I got to the end, I'd get my prize! No tricks! No riddles! No bullshit!"

"What I offer is no riddle or trick, but simply for you to make a choice. However, just like in the cellar, whatever choice you make will have consequences, but shall you choose right, you will defeat me and win the game. Choose wrong, you will lose more than just your wife.

In this final stage, I present you with two choices; you can either choose to sit down at the provided table and eat the slice of cake I've provided you before dawn arrives, or you can fulfill your greatest wish, take the gun on the opposite side of the table, shoot me dead, and retrieve your wife from the room I have her locked in. The key to unlock it is around my neck. Is victory in kindness or rage, player?

Win or lose? The choice is yours."

Button just stared at his captor, disgusted that they even had the slightest nerve to put him in any further predicaments. Cake or revenge? The answer was clear to him, but then again were they actually being truthful about the cake? Was it really that easy or just another sick and twisted trick to kill him?

It could've been poisoned, but Button felt it really wasn't upon stepping closer to where his slice of cake sat on the plate innocently. He eyed it with absolute focus, not seeing anything suspicious in its frosting or fluffy contents. No unusual smells emanated from the sweet treat either, only the usual essence of cake, and the more he continued to examine it, it just seemed like a regular slice of cake.

Then he eyed the pistol.

It would be so satisfying to let all of his rage out in gunfire and watch his final boss fall to the ground as a symbol of sweet victory, but then he stopped and thought of each challenge. While he had nearly died twice, the solutions to the challenges had been given to him rather easily.

Sure, he'd been oblivious to some of the obvious choices, but they hadn't been tricks or lies; the key was in the cellar, a key was in one of the stomachs, there were three rooms, one contained the items, and the map had taken him to the right location.

Was the obvious choice a lie or the right choice to win the game?

Looking back at his enemy, he made his choice.

"After this night and doing everything I did to get here, cake would be a wonderful thing to wash away all of the horror," he spoke.

A slight pause followed, but then Button declared his final answer.

"However, every game I ever played that involved challenges, traps, and a bad guy, always ended in a boss battle," Button grabbed the pistol from the table and pointed it at Gamemaster, a smile meeting his lips. "And the boss always dies in the end!"

He pulled the trigger with glee, but was shocked upon the sound of a click. The very sound that clarified that the gun was devoid of any ammo and that he had been tricked. He dropped the weapon in surprise, only bringing his gaze back to his captor upon a set of words.

"You know, I really thought you'd do better, player. Do better to solve your problems through other ways than just violence and rage, but it's clear that violence is your only answer to everything you do, even in everyday life."

That last comment made Button jump. What the hell was this person talking about? He'd never particularly used heavy violence to solve problems, so why was he being accused of such things?

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about!" Button defended. "I've never done such actions! Now, give me the key and let me and my wife go, you sick bastard!"

"And there you go again," Gamemaster stated. "Demanding for things you can't get in that same voice; a voice I'm all-too-familiar with, and one of the reasons you're here."

Button gasped, taking a couple steps back. The words just spoken had sent an ice-cold shiver straight down his spine, starting to fumble for words in absolute shock.

"Who a-are y-you?" he stumbled out.

"You mean you haven't figured it out by now?" they replied, starting to pull their hood back. "That's surprising, seeing you're normally great at games."

The face that manifested from the shadows of the hood made Button's eyes widen and every hair on the back of his neck stand up straight. His blood ran as cold as ice, and his limbs shook rapidly as he just stared in horror at the now-revealed Gamemaster.

"W-what…

"Hello, darling," spoke the voice of Sweetie Belle, no longer cloaked by the voice changer that she'd used to manipulate it.

"N-no, this can't… i-it can't be you… y-you'd never do this…

Button just stood baffled at the sight of his wife; the unmasked psychopath that had nearly sent him to death twice. Nothing but disbelief, confusion, and shock swarmed his mind like a hive of angry bees as he tried to stay on his feet.

"You're right. I would never do such things; you pushed me to do them," she confirmed. "Pushed yourself to all of this."

"W-what are you talking about?" Button asked. "What have I done to deserve this?"

Sweetie frowned, growing angry and annoyed.

"Where do they come from, darling?" she asked forwardly with a hint of annoyance.

Button was confused.

"Where do what come from?"

"The bruises," she answered. "The scars and injuries you've left out of your rage and violence! Where do they come from?!"

Button only let out a long sigh.

"This again," he stated. "We've talked about this; you cause these things yourse-

Sweetie immediately brought his words to a halt with the click of a pistol meeting his ears and its barrel being inches from his face. He put his hands up immediately and stepped back a little from the barrel.

"Don't even give me your lies and excuses!" she threatened. "It's never been me! It's always been you, and all I've ever done is play pretend like nothing was wrong with our relationship, up until I'd had enough!

I forgave you for all the beatings, hoping you would listen and change, but you didn't! I even kept my mouth shut about your actions for YOUR benefit, because I always swore to defend you from the day we were wed! I tried to love you, but you never loved me! I was just a plaything for you and your friends!"

Button only stood in shock, trying to find the right words to say.

"Sweetie, if I didn't love you, I wouldn't have even bothered getting this far. I experienced pain, killed, and even put myself in danger on fragile floorboards for you. Why do you think I don't love you?"

Off those words, Sweetie eyed Button with a glare of death, keeping the pistol steady in her hand.

"Because it's the reason we're here in the first place," she stated coldly. "It's not the beatings that got you here, dear; it was your unfaithful action."

Button froze, trying to hold a straight face.

"What the hell are y-

"Don't try treating me like I'm crazy!" she demanded. "After all, I set it up, knowing how easy you are to sway. You broke so easily, and while it disgusted me at first, I knew that we'd eventually get here; the night where you would be tested and justified properly for all you've done. And now, that time has come, darling, with Celestia as my witness and you a pawn in my little game of justification."

Button's poker face shattered. He was caught. He had cheated on her a few months back, but he was completely unaware that she had caught and set him up in secrecy. His stomach churned as he just stared at Sweetie Belle.

"Sweetie… I-I…

His words trailed off.

"Save your breathless apologies," she demanded. "Just as I'd predicted from the start of this, in the end of it all, you were just another player. Why do you think I addressed you as that in this little scheme?

Because after I found you in bed with her, that's all you ever were and would be from then on. A filthy, disgusting, and abusive player that treats life like a game.

The point of this game was to make you lose everything, and you succeeded with my greatest expectations. It's even thanks to you that some of the most hated people that were in my life are out of my way and rid of my life for eternity.

I'm sure Celestia can forgive me for offering pain and death to those who caused me a great deal of pain and permanent physical and mental scars. They were no better players than you, sweetheart; violators of innocent lives."

Button swallowed hard, remembering the four victims in the second level.

"What are you talking about?" he stuttered, starting to shiver.

Sweetie just continued to eye him like a hawk.

"You don't think I know?" Sweetie stated confidently. "Your "free for all" three years ago at your mom's house? The little scheme you and the girl came up with. The one who ended being the key to my eternal mental and physical scars that I still carry. The one I gave a key for you to find, and in the process, remove from my memories as a "key" bane of my existence, along with her other cohorts."

Button gasped and widened his eyes in horror. Sweetie Belle should've had no memory of that, but from what had just been clarified, knowing the date, place, and all, he knew he couldn't talk his way out of this.

Then there was the comment that had caused his stomach contents to start slithering up esophagus; the one that clarified that he had been right about whom he assumed Sweetie had referenced previously in her comment about being forgiven by Celestia.

The people he had mutilated in the tree out of desperation to find the key and get to Sweetie Belle; the very person who had stuck him into this nightmare in the first place.

Sweetie Belle continued to speak as Button fought his stomach contents back down into their original resting place.

"You thought I was asleep, but I was awake and in a state of paralysis the entire time, while you and your friends had your fun. The single act that made me question if I was going crazy.

Tell me, dear, was it fun? Was it fun defiling and violating me with your little buds? What even anticipated you to do that?! We swore to keep each other in health and stand by each other's sides through sickness and health, so what in Celestia's name led you to something so vial and disgusting!?"

Button had no words, only silence at her accusations. He couldn't escape the truth.

"That's what I thought. Now, allow me to bring you to light on what all of this meant. It's simple, really; it was simply a display of the Hell you put me through over the past five years of our marriage, to show you what you did to me.

You already said the reasoning of the cellar trap, but there's also a metaphor that goes with it as well. The shocks represent the shock I experienced when you decided to violate me with your friends, while the pain of the shocks represented every hit I took from you in every beating. A feeling of being restrained and unable to run from the pain and agony.

The second was to represent the pain I took from those four individuals, and being freed of the memories by forcing you to rid them of their lives, just as you forced me to rid myself of all of my family and friends by cutting all contact with them. By forcing you to cut through their bodies, I've broken you of all your closest contacts, and have given them proper justice.

The house represented how I felt like I couldn't take one step out of line without you breaking me, and I had to step lightly in the prison you'd locked me in. That was, until I found my way to the key to freedom and decided to finally fight back, resulting in where we are now.

The final confrontation and revealing of long-hidden truths. Truths that I could only speak with you in my position; the person being played and controlled by the game master."

Button merely stood in absolute shock and horror. Everything Sweetie had said fit perfectly, and based on his current state, looking like a bloodstained mess and carrying horrifying memories that he'd never forget, Sweetie had succeeded.

However, one thing still remained; the conclusion.

Where did this go from here?

"Well, now that you've succeeded in putting me through hell, what happens now? Are you just going to kill me, and relieve yourself of me as your husband, or do we just go on like nothing happened tonight?"

Sweetie smiled deviously, uttering a chuckle.

"Oh my dear Button Mash, always assuming the obvious," she cooed. "Violence is what got us here, so why would I resolve this little game with the same thing that started it?"

She lowered the gun from Button's head and back into its holster on her side, continuing to eye her broken husband with the same smirk.

"No. This will end another way; the way it deserves to, my dear."

Button couldn't believe what Sweetie had just done, lowering her only defense in the matter, and considering she couldn't fight to save her life, Button knew he had the advantage.

He chuckled deviously at Sweetie.

"You're a fool and crazy bitch for giving me an opening," he stated. "Now, I'm going to beat you senseless, then lock you up in that cellar to be fried to death!"

Raising his fists, Sweetie Belle didn't seem to move or cower.

"You should've just stayed quiet like I told you! Now you pay for everything you did to me tonight!"

Button prepared a hard punch, but before he could even get his fist forward, something stopped him; a pinch that followed quickly with a wave of dizziness and sleepiness, quickly overwhelming his senses.

He hit the floor, staring back up through his blurry vision at Sweetie and attempting to grab her, but his muscles fell dead on the floor like stones. His vision began to fade as his body fell numb, but right as everything faded to black, something caught his eye; something familiar.

It was too late to tell as the world crumbled to nothing but a bottomless abyss, and Button fell deadweight on the floor at Sweetie's cloaked feet.

Darkness greeted Button in his wake, sitting up from a hard floor and rubbing his head. However, a sound made his senses peak to a panicked state; chains. That's when he felt the cold steel restraints embracing his limbs, and in an immediate frenzy of struggling and feeling around for anything, everything came back to him.

The game.

Sweetie Belle.

The truth.

Every horrifying detail he'd been put through in the previous night.

Standing up, he proceeded to yell for help, only to be met with the reverberations of his voice within wherever he currently resided. He yelled a few more times, searching for a light switch, but no such thing came in the space; he hadn't even found any walls within the vicinity; all he had found was the ends of his restraints and empty space.

He eventually stopped, and only after stopping, found that something was around his neck. Feeling it out in the darkness, he immediately knew what it was, having become quite attune to said object within the past night.

It was a tape recorder.

He felt his entire body shake upon discovering it, knowing it meant nothing but bad news, but considering he eventually would have to play it, he mustered up the strength to find and push the PLAY button.

However as the tape rolled, he was surprised. He had expected Sweetie's voice, but it wasn't hers. It was another familiar voice he'd come to know of as of a few months or so prior to all of this.

"Hello Button. It's me, Erica; the woman you cheated on your wife with. You're probably wondering why I'm speaking instead of Sweetie, and don't worry, I'll ease your confusion. To put it straight, I'm the reason you're here or were ever put through everything you've faced as of late.

You see, I met your wife one day and she told me everything about you and what she wanted to do to you, but was too afraid to. Therefore, I decided to help her, given I've dealt with pigs just like you and know how to break them.

I had to be sure it was worth wasting my time and energy on you, so Sweetie proposed a meetup between you and I, and in just a matter of a few cute words, you had proven to me exactly what you are.

A player.

Sweetie merely came up with the ideas and metaphors; I came up with the traps and challenges you had to endure. However, even given all that you had done to her, Sweetie still wanted you to succeed, so I altered my original plans to give you a fighting chance.

These included turning on the lights, giving you fair amounts of time, and even giving you obvious hints to succeed. However, even after giving you all of that, you still failed and proved yourself nothing but a failure, pig and player to human nature, so now, you are given the same punishment as you gave Sweetie for five years.

You will live the rest of your days confined and trapped in your own personal prison, bound to nothing but the sight of darkness and absolute silence. The same thing you stuck your loyal and faithful wife in for so long, until she finally took control of the player and made her own decisions.

Scream all you want. No civilization is in sight for over a hundred miles from where you are, so unless you'd rather silence yourself before your assured death, I'd just stay quiet in your isolation.

Dehydration may kill you first, or the lingering and growing insanity of being bound to the sight of only darkness. What is certain though, is that you will never escape your prison or abuse, manipulate, or hurt Sweetie Belle ever again.

I hope you're happy with the consequences of your choices in mine and Sweetie's little game of revenge and justice. We sure are, and plan to live our lives freely and at our own will's, while you sulk and die away like the waste you are.

Thank you for playing, and we hope you enjoy your last days of life shrouded in darkness and eternity in Hell."

The tape ended and Button just stood in the darkness, defeated. He didn't have any words, only silence at the realization that he was doomed to die here, alone, defeated, and destroyed of all Will.

He had lost everything.

The game.

His freedom.

His life.

Not even Celestia could save him, and as he felt the tape recorder slip from his grasp, one last scream escaped him, devoid of any hope or light in the endless darkness.