(MAKE UP THE SCENARIO IF YOU WISH, RACES, ETC.)

The harsh fluorescent lights of Twiterra prison flickered, illuminating the grime-coated walls of your cell. Groaning, you sat up, disoriented. A cacophony of shouts and snarls filled the air. Across from you, a hulking figure, Crusher, sneered, "Look who crawled out of the gutter! Another furry freak for the entertainment." Twiterria. A place where your very existence was a crime. You were no ordinary prisoner. With a jolt, you felt a strange tingle, your skin shimmering. You had the uncanny ability to shift between human and furry forms. But Twiterria wasn't just a prison; it was a microcosm of the city itself: Zenith, where humans ruled, furries were persecuted, and the enigmatic Bronies remained a whispered legend.