>”Subject 23. Male. Bipedal Humanoid.”
>Your head feels like a ton of bricks.
>You're strapped to a chair.
>There seems to be some sort of wires attached all over your body.
>”Weight 200 pounds. Height two meters, 23.4 centimeters. Subject between 20 and 25 years of age.”
>What happened last night?
>There was a bad storm...
>You came home to your apartment after work.
>Power was out.
>Window was broken.
>”Race seems to be Caucasian. Hair color is brown.”
>You lived on the third story, so a broken window was odd.
>You didn't expect the.. thing to attack you.
>Four legs, in some sort of black suit, and damn fast.
>”Looks physically fit for his age group.  Initial tests show that brain activity is normal.”
>You tried to talk whatever it was down.
>Let it know that you didn't want to hurt anyone... or anything.
>You don't start out with violence.
>Not if you can help it.
>It responded by shooting you with some sort of cannon.
>”No abnormalities found in organ functions. Specimen appears to be completely healthy.”
>Then you work up here.
>You open your eyes to see a spinning, blurry room.
>There is equipment all over the place.
>Some machines are churning out paper.
>There are test tubes, beakers, wires all over.
>This is some sort of lab.
>”Subject 23 appears to be awake. I will commence shock treatment.”
>Shock treatment?
>That doesn't sound good.
>You crane your head around, trying to see the source of that voice.
“Hello?  Where am I? Who are you peo-”
>Electricity jolts through your body, causing you to convulse in your chair.
>It's painful.
>You've had worse.
>After a few seconds, it's done.
“Who...who are-”
>The jolts come back, this time lasting slightly longer.
>You gasp for air afterwords.
“Wh...Why are you-”
>More intense jolts course through your veins.
>The pain is excruciating.
>You stifle your cries of pain.
>Afterwords, you elect not to talk.
>Just breathe.
>After a minute, you hear some sort of footsteps.
>”Ah, good.  You learned quickly. Some of the others took far too long to understand that they shouldn't talk unless spoken to first.”
>A miniature purple horse walks in front of you.
>It is wearing a white lab coat and goggles.
>Each of it's hooves are covered in some sort of strange black coverings.
>Gloves?
>You would swear you were dreaming if it wasn't for the immense amount of pain you just went through.
>Drug induced hallucination, maybe?
>”They became rather useless for Lab assistance. OR experimentation, for that matter.  Dissection, however, proved to be quite informative. Let that be your second lesson.”
>It leans in close to you and pokes your chest, accentuating each word.
>”You. Are. Expendable.”
>You look at this horse being, unwavering.
>It looks back at you and smiles.
>”Ah, good. I can see you have a bit of fight in you. She likes that. Maybe you'll last longer than one night with her.”
>You continue to stare into the reflective surfaces of the goggles, trying not to give off any hint of emotion.
>”Well, I think that's enough of me for now, Subject 23.  I'll just leave you and her alone for a bit. To... get to know each other.”
“Who are you?”
>”One of your new owners, Subject 23. That's all you really need to know.”
>The purple horse begins to walk away.
>It looks over one of it's shoulders and stops.
>”Do try to keep Subject 23 in one piece, Pinkie.”
>”Okie-dokie-lokie!”
>That voice sounds completely non threatening.
>Bubbly even.
>The purple one walks out of the room and shuts the door.
>The lights in the room go off, except for a spotlight right above your head.
>It's damn bright, making it impossible to see beyond the radius of light around you.
>You hear giggling and hoofsteps circling around you.
“Hello?  Who's there?”
>”Silly filly, didn't you hear Twilight say my name?”
“Pinkie, right?”
>Her voice is very energetic.
>Childlike, really.
>”Uh huh! I'm friends with everypony! So, can we be friends?”
>What's this leading to?
>You've been in enough situations to know that this isn't going-
>”I asked if we can be friends. Do you not want to be friends with me?”
“Of course I do, Pin-”
>Cold steel comes up to your throat, cutting you off.
>”You don't listen very well.”
>The voice turned cold and flat.
>Calculating.
>”I said I'm friends with every PONY. And you are NOT”
>All you see is a pink hoove come from behind the chair,
>And stick a knife into your left hand.
>You scream out in pain.
>”a PONY.”
>It retracts the blade and circles around you.
>It's a pink horse thing.
>No lab coat, no goggles.
>It's mane is... poofy?
>It's hard to focus with the pain shooting from your hand.
>The knife that stabbed you is no where to be found.
>You can't move most your fingers in your left hand at the moment.
>It's also bleeding profusely.
“My hand.
>”Come on silly filly, it's just a small cut!”
“Why are you doing this?”
>It's grinning at you from ear to ear.
>It's inches away from your face, staring into your eyes.
>It's two front hooves are on each of your hands, pressing into you.
>”Come on, 23, aren't you enjoying my party? EVERY pony LOVES a Pinkie party!”
>Through gritted teeth, you stammer:
“But I'm not a pony.”
>The grin stays, but the eyes begin to look past you.
>The being gets the thousand yard stare as it continues to grin.
>It then begins to shake.
>You feel the chair being to vibrate as the grinning horse shakes in place.
>The grin gets impossibly wide as the pony begins to foam at the mouth, nearly convulsing at this point.
>Then, like nothing happened at all, it stops and gets back onto the ground.
>”Good point, 23.”
>It walks away.
>You left hand still hurts like hell, but the blood is starting to clot.
>”Say, I don't think I caught your name.”
“My name is Anon-”
>Electricity jolts through you.
>”What was that?”
“My... my name is An-
>Pain.
>”I didn't quite catch that.”
“A-”
>Pain.
>You stifle your cries.
“A-”
>Pain.
>Won't give it the satisfaction.
“A-”
>Pain.
>”This is fun! Say it again! Say it again!”
>Through ragged breaths, you defiantly stutter on.
“Not... gonna... not gonna... not-”
>Pain.
>This time, you cry out in anguish.
>”I love it when they scream!”
>The voice is cold again.
>It relishes in your pain.
>Why?
“Why?”
>”Why? WHY? Because I can. Because you deserve it. Because this world is not fair, Subject 23. Now say. Your. Name.”
>You take a few ragged gasps for air.
>Why is this happening?
>What happened to make them hate you?
>Where the hell am I?
>”Your name! NOW!”
“Anonymous.”
>It's going to be a long night.