The gleam of light shone in through the cracks in the wall, and the distant, as well as the shimmering, dying light. Only the air could be felt around her, as if she was in some sort of impossible void. Although conscious, she refused to open her eyes. She didn't want to open them. Opening them would be admitting of the true situation, which could prove to be extravaguant. Opening her eyes would admit it is way too real. Groaning and muttering before her, she slowly, but surely realized where she was. She didn't want to admit it, but it was inevitable. She was truly hopeless and without help. It was not one of the most mundane occurrences in daily life. Rather, it was the opposite, and a horrible one at that.
At last, it was inevitable that she would, in the end, open her eyes. Looking around, nothing was familiar. In her inevitable panic, she tried to struggle in her metal bonds bonds with no success and no rules. She tried to get up but rested immobile, much to her miscontent. She tried to mumble something but her mouth was covered with a dry, tight and heavy dirty cloth. She tried to muffle with no real success. It was quite awkward, and uncomfortable - especially for someone like her, to be in such a horrid position, and open for anybody to do anything to her that they wished. Even that sounds wrong, doesn't it?
Her fears were mostly situated on the door at her front right of her, in which it was the only real plausible escape, if she could even escape from her bonds in the first place, that is. Of course, her dreams of escape were quickly shortened by the fact that a key was heard loudly turning in the rusty lock of the door, and a masked figure appeared, much to her displeasure. He locked the door back up and placed the key on the small table nearby, also looking rusty and quite old. The lightly-masked figure slowly but surely approached her and, as he grabbed a stool, sat down next to her, examining her with his few, small amateur holes in his hooded face.
'Well, well..' started the hooded figure, as Pinkie jumped in suprise, in a dark and echoing tone throughout the dark, concrete-walled room. 'What do we have here?' he continued, as Pinkie stared at him in despair, almost pleading to be let go, fully knowing that wouldn't be the case. She tried to wriggle in her bonds, in which her captor let her to her pleasure, fully knowing she won't get out as she well did. It was then she started giving up, and, in despair, looked up to her captor, hoping for something to happen.
After breaking the awkward but eternal silence, he finally got up from his chair and started walking around the dense, echoing room of darkness and concrete. At last, after walking around inexplicably for a few moments without cause, he got closer to his poor, innocent prisonner and removed his mask and smacked it down on the floor, looking straight at her. How decent. Mickey, it was, again. Pinkie was a little disappointed for it to be him again, but seeing his past personality, it could be much worse. Pinkie tried to, once again, muffle something, but it was, really, just a grasp for air.
'Well, time for work!' he continued, on an unusually depressing tone, as he quickly stretched and ran to the table opposite, covered by dirty, heavy curtains, almost transparent but covered with dirt and dusty items. It was probably for the best that she did not see the rest of the items, as when he turned back to her, panic struckt her once again and she struggled in her bonds and muffled pleads for help. It was a rather new-looking, although dirty, heavy-looking drill, that he tested bit by bit in his hands, creating an unusually quite noise, but neverthless proving to be quite a threat. He sat back down on the stool next to her and, for his own sick-minded pleasure, almost cut Pinkie by trapping her with the drill in front of her, turning it on and off to scare her to her wits, making her cry and beg all the time.
At last, he finally put the drill, safely on the floor, with a somehow reassuring smile on his face. 'Don't worry.' he started, looking more confident and less depressive of himself. 'I'm not going to hurt you. Well.. It's complicated.' he continued, reasurring her less and less at each instant. She tried to wriggle at times, knowing full well she wouldn't get out so easily. Perhaps, her friends would come, guns blazing out and about, rescuing her like a damsel in distress. She was just like that, bound and gagged at the mercy of her captor. That is, if he had any mercy, which could be a potential saver, as many of her previous did.
'Time to work!' he proclaimed, as he got up once again, this time much more optimistic-looking as he moved next to Pinkie an uncovered a set of buttons, levers and such in a densely-populated white, but rather dirty table, as for the rest of the room she was in. 'Let's go!' he muttered, as he started readying the buttons and pulling some of the levers. What followed was panickingly confusing as Pinkie looked around the place. Colours and newly-discovered buttons were seen light up, LED lights were turned on around the room and the wires were now more visible and vibrating. Her captor mercilessly grabbed some energy clamps and stuck them just strong enough to her arms, legs and torso, making her get stung a little. She felt like a hopeless being in a robotic suit that was build around her whilst she was awake.
She started to shake in fear, and because of the power brought on to her. She became to legitimately get worried about herself, as she was bouncing up and down but kept quickly secured by her strong bonds which carved into the top layers of her skin, just enough for blood circulation to pass by. She tried to scream but it would not do much, in fact she was already gagged so that was a no-no for her. She started to faze away, the last of her breath being of her consciousness, overlooking the great man who captured her, dragged her to a place of nobody, and was given but no chance at all of escape, or redemption. This was the end of Pinkie Pie. The end of not only any pony, but the end of a good friend.
'Now, it is time! Now!!!!' he yelled, turning on all the buttons like a madman, unable to be recovered from his unimaginable madness as all the power started brightening up Pinkie's non-moving corpse, only budging due to the vibrations and vibe from the air and electricity. Shouting like the madman that he was, he grabbed Pinkie and started to move in towards her, almost disappearing at times from her brightedness. As he moved in closer and closer, he started to almost brighten up, as if he was going to explode at any moment in white colour, as the crew did in their initial crossing to the new world. Why, world, why?
As he started to faze and fade away, knowing his plan would truly work, he stopped any regrets from inside his mind. Any humanity. Any morals. As he did so, each part of his body started to lose more and more of its figure, its colour, its appetite. In a matter of a few minutes ,he was nothing but thin air.
Waking up, only the light was seen. The bright flashes of white gave him a new, but rather familiar perspective that he had felt before. Then, he remembered it. The initial crossing. It was happening all over again, except this time, he wasn't going anywhere. In fact, he would become totally in this world. Looking up to the new sky in the desolated ruins of his slightly underground and lost laboratory that was shed to pieces by his rudesome experiment, his dazing vision was still kept alert by his strong mind and reflexes. He looked around. Nothing. Nothing but his corpse lying, perflectly intact, on the floor.
He opened his eyes fully, at last. He looked around. Nothing but the fields, with, in the far distance, being the great city of Canterlot that he had previously visited. Of course, this was but a distant dream. He looked down. His hands, now turned hooves. His ears, now turned floppy. His back, now turned party. He was a new person. He was a new self. A stronger self. A true self. He was now truly in his world, a world where he could achieve what he wanted without a depressive atmosphere. He was finally free in his new, bright, cartoonish body of a pony. Goodbye Mickey. Hello Mickie Pie.
Running into the distance, he tested his reborn powers, smashing rocks and branches into who-knows-what, and jumping at great speeds and heights. He ran and traverse the fields like a little, excited and innocent child that he was reborn as. He looked, one last time at his eternal corpse and looked away, confident this is the way it should be, should've been, and always should be. Goodbye Mickey, hello Mickie Pie.