What's This? A Real Chapter Title? I Think Not

From my position, I can see directly into the eyes of an excellent example of what a mad scientist should look like. It's quite off-putting, because they look like a cartoon character, and I just don't have it in me to be scared. Although I definitely should be, all things considered. I fall from their grasp, falling to the floor, and crashing into a panel covered in blinking buttons. My head crashes into it painfully. I barely have time to glance at the panel and shove myself off it, 'accidentally' pushing one small button as I do, hoping they don't notice. They don't.

They grab me, pick me up again and slam me into the wall, hands circling my throat, which would be terrifying. But alas, my survival instinct is not as great as my making fun of people instinct, and I have to restrain myself from laughing in their face.; Which is definitely not a good choice, all things considered. But it might distract them enough to put me down- in which case my injured, semi-frozen body would certainly not put up with me trying to sprint away. So run is not an option. And fight is certainly not an option, for similar reasons. So my options are very limited. I suppose my best choice is negotiate. Something made difficult by my lack of things to negotiate with. I suppose my best option is to persuade them that we are more use alive than dead. Which seems obvious but sometimes you need to think a thought before it solidifies into a plan.

"What do you want from me?" I demand.

"I don't want anything from you" They sneered, looking down at me with disdain. "You're defective. It doesn't help me at all. Your only use is to keep your friends here."

"Why do you need my friends here?" I reply defensively. "Let them go."

"They are to be turned into simulacra- humans without humanity. The perfect killer."

"Why choose them? surely these are of more use to you elsewhere- after all, we are skilled in many things. Imagine turning someone in a position of power into a simulacra- completely under your control, with no will and no reason for anyone to suspect they were anything but human. After all, in a way, they are." I say, speaking before I can really think about what I'm saying.

"You make a compelling point, in truth. But even if I were swayed by your argument, which to be clear I am not, I could not stop it at this point. Their blood flow has frozen and their brain activity is likely to have been permanently lowered."

"When did it start? The lowering brain activity."

"It's not an exact science- perhaps right now, perhaps ten minutes from now, perhaps ten minutes later. It depends on too many variables to predict well" They reply, fiddling with their glasses. "However, they are of just as much use to me as simulacra as they are as human. The only one that is of more use to me human than simulacrum is you- and that is because while you're useless as human, you are a distinct hindrance. Go freeze in a closet somewhere."

"Absolutely not. And I think that unless you can do something to stop me, I am going to absolutely trash this place. I suggest you start running"

"You can barely walk, what are you going to do?"

"It's actually really easy to do. First I'm going to give this here pipe a good stomp." I punctuate the words by stomping on the pipe, removing it from the wall and letting the gas inside trickle out and across the polished floors. "Then I just take this matchbook, which I just so happen to have from one of my friends always carrying matches, and drop one of them into the gas. Start. Running." I say, staring them down as best I can. Of course, it's a total bluff. If I do this, I risk my life and countless others. At the very least, anyone that was at my home earlier, plus whatever poor innocents are here as well. But what I'm hoping is that they're enough of a twisted person that they would drop the flame, given the choice. I'm betting that they are. Betting quite a lot that they are.

They look at me, taking a step closer quickly.

"Three..." I say, starting a countdown, glaring at them in warning.

They take another step closer, eyes fixed firmly on the match, reaching out slightly with one hand to snatch it.

"Two..." I say loudly, still staring them down.

They walk closer again, about to snatch it when I suddenly grab their outstretched wrist and throw them down in front of me, into the gas at my feet. They spring back up, looking terrified.

"Run. Now" I hiss lowly. Somehow, my ridiculous bluffing works and they do turn around and run.

There's not really a lot I can do now- I need to heat up my friends somehow. Maybe one of these control panels will have something on it? I sure hope so, lord knows I need it. I scour everything, looking for a button conveniently labelled heater, but I can't seem to find one sadly.

There's nothing for it. I need to smash it all up and hope I can disable the stuff that keeps it all cold in here. Without also damaging anything that would blow us all sky high. Which is not a solid strategy but since when do I have a better idea? Never, so this is it. Without hesitating, I find a good sized chunk of pipe and start battering the computer nearest to me with it. After at least a minute, I can even hear the cold air stop blowing through the vents, which is amazing. I hobble out of the room into another blank hallway filled with doors and start the long process of opening every door, one by one, to let the cold air (and the inhabitants) out of confinement.