Grab a chair

You aim the chair legs at where you think Davy’s face is. He reaches up, grabs it, and drags it out of our grasp with inhuman strength. You stumble against the wall, and the first wash of water spills across the floor. Then he has you, in a hold like iron. You beat the torch against him, and it’s like striking stone. All you succeed in doing is breaking the torch.

He drags you back to the stairwell. You smell cold-damp and stale drink, sharp urine and rotting teeth. You struggle to free yourself, and a single blow knocks you insensible. After that, it’s shapes, and movement, and your heels bouncing up the steps to the roof.

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