Oak

He'd forgotten what his name was, let alone how to spell his own name.  How sad.  How hilarious.  Depends on the person you're speaking to don't it?  Either way he had no idea who he was.  So the man asking him wouldn't be getting any kind of answer any time soon.  Regardless he continued to punch him in the face repeatedly when he failed to respond.

"What's your name?"  asked the man.

"I don't know...honestly," said the other taking a moment to spit out some blood.

The man punched him again.  This time a tooth so lovingly dislodged itself from his gums and flew across the room, causing more blood to fill his mouth.  His top lip was split as well and his nose was most likely broken.  His left eye was starting to swell.

Why couldn't he remember his name?  If he could then this whole game of punching bag would end.  He couldn't remember what he'd been doing, or how he got here.  He just woke up in this room tied to the horridly uncomfortable wooden chair.  Wasn't really his taste in style either.  He'd have preferred something oak.  Oh yeah?  Oak?  You like Oak?  That could be your name for now.  The man raised his fist again so he spat up some more blood and then said , "My name is Oak."

"Oak?  What kind of a name is that?  Doesn't matter.  Tell me, Oak, why you're here.  Why were you inside the facility?"

Facility?  That sort of rang a bell for him.  It sounded familiar to him.  But why?  He didn't know what it was, and of course had no idea why he was here or what he had been doing beforehand.

"Honestly...I don't even know.  I can't remember anything okay?  I just woke up here tied to your ugly chair."

"You don't remember huh?"  asked the man.  "So if you won't talk then I have no choice but to put you in the program."

"Program?  What do you mean?"

"You'll find out soon enough.  I can only imagine that's what you were here for.  You and all your nasty reporter friends always trying to butt in on what we do here."

"Where is here?  Where the heck am I even?"

"Stop playing dumb kid, you know exactly where you are and what you were doing.  No matter, that's all part of your past now.  Your future begins here, Oak....Take him away boys."

Two men in suits untied him from the chair and began directing him towards the only door in the room.  The third man watched as he wiped his scrapped knuckles with a damp towel.  The two men brought him down a series of hallways until they came to what looked like a series of cells.  They opened the last one on the left and threw him inside.  It was a padded cell, but padded with a strange material that he had never felt before.  It felt thick and strong, almost like a bullet/stab proof material of some sort.  He couldn't help but notice several deep cuts in the material on one side.

"Have a nice stay," chuckled one of the men in suits.

They closed the door and the cell went pitch black.  There was no light whatsoever.  So here he was, now part of some program and he had no idea where he was or what his name was...wait...Paul.  That was his name.  How sad.  How hilarious.  Either way, he didn't care for that name much now that he thought about it, Oak was a much better name....Yes, he'd be Oak from now on...