One night in [Tabula Rasa] and the tough guys tumble...

As Anatoly slowly made his way back to the land of the conscious, the only coherent thought he could muster was that he hurt. His head, his shoulders - every muscle in his body ached and he couldn't quite remember why. He had a vague sense of something happening, something terrible, but the more he tried to fish it out from the depths of his mind, the less tangible the memory was.

His eyes fluttered open and he gasped as he saw nothing but stone. He tried to move and discovered both his hands and feet were tied. He turned his head here and there, but at the angle he was sitting, he could see nothing but shadows. It seemed no matter which way he looked, he was trapped.