Mare-Do-Well awoke to the uncomfortable sensation of a needle injection. The cold metal point of the instrument punctured into her abdomen, and a burning sensation began to spread as she felt the chemical compound entered her bloodstream and was carried by her rhythmic, panicked heartbeat. She couldn't move her legs, and the dark room around her was oppresively dark. The feeling of being trapped and alone in this suffocating blackness was unbearable. She tried again to work herself free of her bonds, but it was no use. Something was restricting her movements, her legs bound to some kind of vertically angled table made of cold metal. A surgical table. She was trapped.
"So.. You are awake. Good." A grim, regal and monotone voice spoke out with a hint of gleeful malice. Mare-Do-Well struggled again, eyes darting around wildly in an attempt to find the speaker. It was at this point that she realised; her mask was equipped with a night vision setting.. and therefore, she was not wearing her mask. And by the feeling of the cold metallic surface of the raised table she was strapped to, she was not wearing the rest of her suit, either. As her eyes widened in realisation, a spotlight turned on before her.
Standing there, on a now-visible circle of concrete floor, was the source of the voice. A unicorn stallion with a pale grey coat, and shocking amber eyes. He stared into her, the eyes almost hypnotic. It was around then that Mare-Do-Well began to suspect something to do with the injection, as she felt herself losing control. The stallion stepped closer, and she noticed that he appeared to be wearing some kind of white trenchcoat, a lab coat which had been extended to reach near the floor. An ID card hung from it, but she couldn't tell in this light what name it bore. She now noted that he wore a surgical mask over his mouth.
"I must admit, you are a fascinating specimen. Though without your mask, you are much less formidable, Miss Scootaloo." He stated coldly. A stab of discomfort flared up in Scootaloo's heart when he spoke her name. "But all that aside.. I'm afraid that we must have answers. And when we have answers, your life will no longer be worthwhile."
"Who are you?" Scootaloo asked, voice emotionless besides some subtle, contained anger.
"I am Doctor Septimal, one of the highest-ranking associates in the board who run this city. I deal with those residing in the city with.. Special mental problems. I am trained in psychological procedures, as well as some.." He grinned visibly behind the mask. "Surgical techniques." Scootaloo was repulsed by the stallion, and would have liked nothing better than to break free of her bonds there and then, smashing a hoof into the Doctor's face. He circled the table she was strapped to.
"And what do you want with me?" She asked. Septimal smirked, the sides of his face pulled into a malicious grin.
"I had you brought to my facility in order to study you. To learn your motives in any way I see fit. Soon, you will be powerless against me, and Everfree City will be your tomb." He returned to her field of vision, now holding a surgeon's scalpel in the telekinetic field of his horn. He lowered it toward her cheek. "And now, it is time to learn of your story."
"Don't do this." Scootaloo uttered, afraid for the first time in years. She may have been a fully-matured mare, trained to the point of peak performance, but now she was nothing more than a helpless prisoner.
"Tell me what your purpose here in Everfree city is."
"No.. No, I won't tell you.."
The scalpel danced.
An hour later, Septimal turned on his hooves, and left for the night.
"You will tell us your purpose here.. Or you will die on that table." He muttered, words septic as he disappeared beyond the spotlight's range. The light cut out, and Scootaloo was alone in the dark, without a soul to cry to. She sobbed quietly to herself. Wounds stung like acid. Bruises ached with pain. Chemical and electrical burns seethed with agony. After an immeasurable while's crying, she calmed her breathing, and steeled her nerves. This would be a trial to bear for hours, days, weeks. A torture she would have to deal with, for the good of Equestria.
A day went by with no progress from the interrogations. The rage-filled glares, the stabbing, the beating, the chemicals. She had come close to breaking an few times, but had managed to keep her sanity. The blood stained the table she was strapped to, and bruises marred her body. She was severely malnourished, only fed bread and water by an orderly every few hours, when Septimal left for a break. His eyes were burned into her memory. She would no longer talk to Septimal, only to the orderly. Scootaloo would speak two words to him whenever he left.
"Thank you."
After a week of the ordeal, Septimal released her. Bringing two guards into the room, he had them unlock her restraints and haul her into the labyrinth of corridors beyond, and followed behind the group silently. Soon, they stopped at a large metallic bulkhead of some kind. It slid slowly to the side, now open, and she was tossed to the floor of the empty concrete antechamber beyond. The place was bare besides the bulkhead door she had been thrown in through, and an identical one on the opposite side of the room.
"I believe I have collected some sufficient data on your tolerances and psychology. A strong specimen.. But I am sure we will reach your limits soon." Septimal's voice echoed around the room as the door closed. "Until the next time, Miss Scootaloo." The door shut over tightly. A locking mechanism screeched from somewhere unseen, and another unlocked a moment later. Scootaloo lay, beaten and broken on the floor, as the bulkhead before her opened slowly. Beyond, an empty Canterlot street, marred with darkness and snow and harsh reality. An empty Everfree street.