You dash forward, grabbing the wet, slimy shirt and hefting the man up and out of the canal as best you can; you don’t have much time, and you doubt you can pull him completely free before the other person arrives. If you could just secure him…

You feel his weight shift onto the towpath, and he coughs and splutters as he scrabbles on the wet cobblestones, bringing up a knee to drag himself out.

That will do; he can manage on his own now. You release him, turn, and run back, towards the factory. The towpath is straight; you’ll easily be seen running away, but if you get through the bay door, you could hide.

A man wrapped in deep burgundy emerges from the alleyway as you make your escape, but you don’t stop; you skid to a halt as you turn then dart forward, through the open door and into the darkened room beyond. You hear the man call out “Hey!”, but you ignore it.

The room is filled with clutter; stacks of rotting wooden pallets, broken boxes and smashed, empty barrels. There are lumpy old sacks, and piles covered in mouldering tarps. Tall shelves further narrow and channel the space, placed between several concrete pillars; you hide behind one of these as you scan for a better spot, catching your breath. If the pursuer comes in here, he’d find you easily, especially if he noticed the wet footprints you left behind or the steadily growing puddle at your feet. You glance at the bay door; you don’t see him, but you hear voices outside; he must’ve caught up to the canal man. They don’t seem to be fighting, but that distraction is enough. You move around the clutter, making your way towards the back wall.

In the gloom, you notice a door leading further into the building, and with another glance to make sure the coast is clear, you gently test it; it thankfully opens but with a short, loud squeak. You flinch, but squeeze through, closing it behind you; it doesn’t squeak this time.

It’s still, quiet, and dark in here; the small window is boarded up, but with the light that filters through the cracks, you can see this is some kind of storage room. It’s also cluttered in here, but, unlike the loading bay, which is exposed to the wind, this room is filled with a thick layer of undisturbed dust, which you kick up as you move around. You stifle a cough as you glance about; if you can stay quiet enough, you can hide out in here for 5, maybe 10 minutes. Then you’ll check if the coast is clear.

You look about for a suitable spot to sit and hide and spot yet another door. You wonder if you could find another way out of the factory; if you could avoid the canal entirely, that’d be ideal. This door probably leads to the main factory floor; you could see if you can find the main entrance or a side door. At the very least, you might be able to breathe better in a larger room.

You gently move some crates out of the way, then twist the handle. It turns but is stiff. You jiggle it until it turns fully, then pull the door. It shifts, but then stops suddenly; the jolt causes a sprinkle of dust and grit to rain down onto you from the top of the door frame, directly into your face.

This dust will be the death of you! Squinting, covering your mouth and nose with your soggy, algae-covered sleeve, and suppressing another cough, you try the door again; is it locked, or just jammed? It refuses to yield to your attempts, so you surmise it’s locked. There’s no keyhole, and no bolt on this side, so it’s probably bolted or barred from the other side.

Oh well. You’ll just go back to your original plan. You’ll sit behind those crates, wait a while, then see. You just need to avoid kicking up any more dust…

All at once, there is a clang, a creak, and the door flies open, opening outwards as the room is filled with the light of a lantern, which is held on a stick by a man who stands in the doorway.

You freeze as he stares at you; he looks confused and worried, then startled, then confused again.

“…What you doin’ in here..!?”

You stare back; he looks like a worker, wearing a grimy white shirt, worn, canvas trousers, and scuffed boots. Behind him, you can see another man peering out at you. Is this factory not abandoned after all..?

You respond quickly and calmly and point back towards the canal. Some maniac was chasing people, and you didn’t want to get attacked. You ran in here to hide; you’re just trying to find a safe way out. You don’t want any trouble…

The man regards you for a moment, bewildered. He glances back at his companion, then steps aside. You breathe a sigh of relief. You step out of the storage room and into another small room, thanking the man as you do. If he can point you to the nearest exit, you’ll get out of his hair.

You glance around this space as he tells you to just follow the corridor beyond an adjacent doorway, and note the cot, trunk, desk and chair that are crammed in here. Three of the walls are made of brickwork that does not match the wall around the door you came through, and the slanted ceiling, which is barely 8 feet above you at its highest point, is made from old planks. A small, recent, crudely built living space…

Not wanting to overstay your welcome, you step out, watched closely by the two men, into a narrow corridor lined with more of these crude walls, with rickety doors, some real and some makeshift, breaking up the rough brickwork periodically. Up high, the real factory ceiling is several metres above you, with occasional windows barely letting in light through grimy glass.

With a final nod at the two men, who now watch you from the doorway, you stride down the corridor, hoping to get out of here fast. The factory was abandoned but has now been repurposed into this… shelter.

There are lots of men in here, sitting or standing around. You pass an open space in the middle, where most of the loiterers are gathered around chairs and tables, and hear water splashing in another room.

Nobody really pays any attention to you, other than the briefest of glances, which you’re grateful for. With your travel clothes (and layer of dust), you blend in. If anyone noticed that you’re soaking wet, you were already gone by then.

You reach a wider space in front of the opposite wall and see a door leading to an area which is brighter than this one. A couple of men are in the doorway, discussing something.

You ask them to excuse you; you just want to squeeze past. The man primarily blocking the door does not stop speaking or acknowledge you, but automatically starts moving out of the way. The man he’s speaking to looks at you, then double-takes, frowns, then holds up a hand questioningly.

“Who are you?!”

His companion, interrupted, turns to actually look at you, and not recognising you either, is immediately displeased.

“How did you get in here?!”

More than being confused or curious, his question is an accusation. You’re a little taken aback by their hostility, but you understand; you’re a stranger in their living space. You quickly apologise and repeat what you said to the other guy, but before you’re done, he lets out a dry laugh and shoves you back.

“You teasing the breeze?!”, he snaps. “You think you can just twirl in here and help yourself?!”

You regain your footing, then stand firm. What is he on about? You haven’t done anything, and you don’t want any trouble. You just want to leave, so step aside.

He remains firmly in the doorway, while his friend laughs, then turns to call someone in the room beyond.

“Hey, Charlie! Come weigh this guy’s cart!”

No! Don’t get others involved..!

This could get out of hand. You warn the man once more; let you out. You look them both up and down; neither of them appear to be armed…

The man deliberately shifts his stance to block as much of the door as possible, with his amused friend standing by as a secondary block. Behind you, a few of the other residents are starting to pay attention. If they start to close in…

“You don’t get to make demands, bant!” says the first man. “We’ve had enough of you grot-munchers coming here and…”

Alright, that’s enough. You unsheathe your axe, step forward, grab his shirt and hold your blade up to his throat, allowing him to see its sharp edge, and its bright gleam. He immediately stops talking, and his friend freezes and gasps. Just behind them, another man stops moving; you can see two others further away, and another door on the far side of the room.

You turn your focus back to your hostage, staring him in the eyes; he is angry but even more afraid.

Now. You’re going to ask him nicely once more. Stand aside. Let you leave.

He takes a step back and you usher him on, moving him back out of the doorway until you’re in the other room. The others move back as well, with one man running out of the room. The others don’t speak, but you start to hear some hushed voices behind you.

You look around the room; smaller than the other, with a corridor leading off to the right with several closed doors, a brick-and-glass partition ahead of you, which separates this room from a foyer and the main entrance, and a shorter corridor to your left, which ends with an open door that leads outside.

You manoeuvre your hostage so that you can reverse down the corridor to your left; that way is clear, but what’s outside? At the doorway, you glance out; to your right, the alley stretches back over 50 metres before ending with a high wall with a closed wooden door. To your left, the alley is slightly shorter and leads out onto the street. In both directions, the way is cluttered, but no one else is present.

You shove the hostage away, returning the favour, keeping him at bay with the battle axe, though you needn’t worry about that; he scrambles away as soon as he’s free. Now that their friend is free, they seem less scared and look at you with anger and disgust. None are brave enough to challenge you though. You back into the alley, and with one last check to make sure they’re not about to try anything, you turn and run along the alley to your left.

You sprint at first but slow to a jog as you sheathe your battle axe. Bursting out onto the street at full pelt whilst wielding a weapon won’t go down well with the locals. A casual jog, like you innocently have somewhere to be, would be much more acceptable. You glance back; three men are watching you from the doorway, but they don’t pursue you. Good.

You turn back, exhaling. Can you go five metres without running into some trouble?

As you approach the exit, weaving through the stacked junk, a man, approaching from the right, turns into the alleyway and walks towards you, followed by another man, then a third. You can’t see him clearly thanks to the light from behind him, but what you can see, is the silhouette of the great sword slung across his back.

You slow and he stops, now blocking the way, with the two others taking up positions behind him. Further back, you see two more enter the alley. You walk forward, cautiously, and hearing noise behind you, you look back to see a group of the men from inside have now started following you, steadily closing the gap.

You tense slightly and frown. They better not get any ideas..!

You turn and pick up your pace moving forward, towards the newcomers. They haven’t moved, and judging by the stance of the man with the sword, they don’t intend to.

The alley is narrow, with six men creeping up behind you, and five standing in front. The ones behind still aren’t armed, but the ones in front are; the one with the great sword, the second has a rusty knife, the third has a wooden club with metal studs, and the fourth has a length of chain wrapped around his arm. Only the fifth is unarmed. AI InputThe companions and their weapons were suggested by ChatGPT. ~ Ameronis

There are no windows on the ground floor, and the side doors are out of reach behind your pursuers. There is no clear access up to the second floor or roof, though there are pipes and ledges woven along the walls and between the buildings. The street is only a few metres away, but a gauntlet stands between you and it.

The man with the sword watches you as you approach, with a faint, twisted smile. He speaks, with a slow, measured tone.

“Stay where you are, or I’ll spoon-feed you your own teeth.”