Hall of Infinite Doors

You scramble toward the balcony door and slide it quickly open. A blast of frigid air bumbles into the room - it's bitterly cold outside, almost freezing it seems, and your breath makes clouds in front of you. You shut the door behind you and glance around, hoping for something to help you down, help you hide, and just as you spot a small edge where if you huddle you might have escaped the notice of people in the office, the air around you explodes with light.

You look up directly into the bright beam of a helicopter searchlight. A voice rasps out, all-potent and authoritative: "PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD AND LAY DOWN OR WE WILL OPEN FIRE".