You wake up. Absolute darkness, cut by a single dim light from a bulb. You don’t remember who you are, where you are, how you got here. Your hands reach down, feeling the cold concrete floor. You feel something metallic encircling your ankles. Shackles. A tight, uncomfortable hoop restricts your movements. You are wearing a short, dirty shirt, sticky with sweat and who knows what else. It is alien, not yours. You are an alien in this cold stone coffin.

Suddenly, a dull creak. The iron door at the end of the basement begins to slowly open. A figure appears in the doorway - a tall, broad-shouldered man, his face hidden by a mask. In his hands he holds a tray with a meager portion of food. His voice, deep and low, cuts through the silence:

"Has my sheep woken up yet?"