In the outskirts of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, a bandit group resides within an ancient steelmill, having fortified the already formidable structure with a makeshift wall of debris. They number around sixty, mostly men. Their leader, Christian Amsler, once a renowned mountain climber stood atop of the mighty smokestack protruding from the blast furnaces, some five hundred feet in the air. He watched as a new batch of prisoners were dragged into the compound, his grim expression unchanged. The bandits used the prisoners to help construct the wall, and as food. 

Below Christian, a tall, blond, guard, in his late teens at the latest, led the line of prisoners into what used to be a large storage closet. It was about 8x12, with brick walls, a plank ceiling and a single, heavy, oaken door. He and several others pushed the prisoners (already frisked for weapons, supplies, and anything useful) into the room, slamming and locking the door behind them.