"Breathe. Stop. Walk. Assault. Integrate. Terminate."
The words rung through his head.
The world had stopped for a sec; some kind of adrenaline-addled mind trick. The blood loss had rendered his sight a monochrome blur. He put a hoof to his head.
The headache was almost loud enough to deafen his heartbeat. All of a sudden, everything started rushing upwards- a frenzied feeling. That feeling that somepony would get when they were underwater, at the edge of their breath,still scrambling to the surface.
Then it stopped. Stock sat up, breathing hard, eyes wide. Everything was still a blur. He rolled to the right of him and fell out of his bed, landing with a thump.
"AAAGH! OW! Gra- Fe- GHAAAAH!". The growling was just a short burst of frustration. Stock slowly got to his hooves, and walked over to his cabinet. He stuck his right fore-hoof through the broken glass and pulled a small bottle of painkillers, chomping a few before setting the bottle back.
"Aaah. That's better." He walks out of his room, only to be immediately confronted with a knock on the door. A mumbled "Visitors suck." He pushes the door open, to be confronted with a Royal Army member.
"How are you, officers?"
Silence.
"You're under arrest for first degree murder."
"This is a joke, right?"
"Right?"
The nervous jokes and laughter didn't affect the officers.
Stock stood there for a second, before realizing that there were only two guards.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"How many officers are with you?"
"Just us.", one of the two replied.
Stock leaped forward, an adrenaline rush giving him strength to execute on the one opportunity he had. He barreled forward, headbutting one officer and slamming him against the wall. The other turned and ran, not having his weapons on hand and too distracted to use his magic. He wasn't fast enough.
He got pounced, and Stock executed; execution of a task, no matter how gut-wrenching or how instinct reliant, was the only thing he was good at at the time. However, there wasn't just the heat of the moment propelling Stock.
The little foal Stock was by his lonesome, backed up against a fence, thinking about how he would revolutionize Equestria with one of his many ideas. "If I could just factor thi-"
His thought was cut off by a thump to the face. He jolted back into reality, to only be confronted with three bullies and a nerd being pulled up as a meatshield. Before Stock had a chance to say anything, he received a hoof to the mouth; it disoriented him, leaving him open for more punishment. Each of the bullies had strength and malice behind their fore-hooves, and punch after punch not only left Stock battered, but spiritually crushed. He wasn't naive, but the amount of true malice there was here shocked him. He had always been told Equestria was a good place full of good people, but Stock doubted it as he was being pounded. After five (hours) minutes of getting punched, the bullies finally stood up, leaving him in the corner, windless and bruised.
While the flashback receded to reality, he slowly started to perceive what he had done. Everything unblurred and resumed focus. Stock was sitting on top of a Royal Army member, his normally beige fur drenched in blood, having just brutally murdered two of them.
He got up, and shuddered. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to start doing that again."
Stock starts to trot, but before he can get very far a snap of pain rings through his leg, and he hits the floor, turning around. What he thought was a dead officer had just smashed a baton into his back-right hoof. He then started beating Stock with the baton, before finally knocking him unconcious.
