Short way alternate path

Thinking nothing of it, you take the short way. It used to be called "factory row" before manufacturing jobs were outsourced overseas due to large tax increases, union greed and interference, and the usual congressional morons who thought raising the minimum wage wouldn't hurt American businesses. There are still some factories open here, but they generally run skeleton crews. Some of the factories and warehouses stand empty while others are used as hangouts for the homeless, street gangs, sweat shops for illegal aliens, or bases of operations for the Russian Mafia's **** trade. It's a dangerous place, but not so much in the day time as it is at night. The times you've cut through here, you've seen what you were sure were federal agents from ICE and the FBI monitoring the area. You've even seen patrol cars around.

As you enter "factory row" you notice nothing out of the ordinary. The birds are chirping, and the federal agents are taking a break in their SUV. You smile and wave at the agents as you pass them by. They look up from their coffee, smile, and wave back. Your usual path through "factory row" takes you by the old, abandoned Amalgamated Widgets plant and warehouse facility where you follow the old railroad tracks almost straight to Pinkie Morgan's Workout Center.

You pass by the main factory and turn onto the railroad tracks, where you pass a couple of warehouses. Old, abandon rail cars still line the dock areas. As you jog by the last rail car, you can't help getting the feeling that suddenly you are in real trouble. A group of men are standing in front of you, blocking your path. Quickly you turn around, trying to go back the way you came, but it's too late. Another man with what appears to be a gun comes at you from that direction. There's nowhere to run. You drop your arms to your sides, and calmly stand there waiting for whatever is about to happen to you. You don't yell or scream because you're sure that doing either will only make things worse on you.

"Umm... What's up guys? Can I help you with something?" you say. One of the men grabs you from behind. You feel the sting of a needle enter your sexy ass. Moments later, the world around you spins and fades to gray.

Your aching arms wake you up. When you can finally see and think clearly, you realize you are suspended from a conveyor track by your wrists. Your wrists are bound and attached to a cargo hook. One good thing, you still have your clothes on, though your Nike super joggers and sport socks are gone. You attribute your missing socks and shoes to the rope that binds your legs and ankles.

"Where am I?" you wonder. "Who are those men? Russian Mafia? Gang bangers? **** laborers?" Perhaps your answer is soon to come as the conveyor track hums to life and you start to move toward a large doorway, covered with hanging plastic slats. You close your eyes as you pass through the plastic, then open them again to see...