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The Scientist

You yell for help, and after a few minutes, the door opens to the room. A woman walks in wearing a scientist's garb, readjusting her glasses when she sees you. "What have we here? Another one of his victims?" she says softly, as if to herself.

"Get me out of here!" You plead, struggling against the restraints. She pulls up a chair from the corner and sits down beside you, resting her elbows on the table. "I don't think so," she replies. "I specialize in responsive nerve ending research, and I haven't had a test subject in some time. Too bad you got 'volunteered' for it, eh? But I'll make it easier on you. What will be your poison, so to speak? The feather or the hand?"

Written by The Tickler

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