Here's a couple of paragraphs from my in-progress tale of one man's unexplained interrogation, ON THE Y...
Burt moved behind me while Stanky sauntered into the darkness toward the door. Twisting to peer over my shoulder, I saw Burt press one of several buttons on the wall and the floor plate sealed the hole. Another button pushed, and chains coming from holes in the ceiling slowly lowered me into the grasps of the masked goons. They draped my arms over their shoulders. I struggled a little. Found I was weaker than I knew.
As Burt released me from the cuffs, each of the masks clutched one of my wrists and extended my arms. Burt grabbed my ankles and pulled forward. Walking backwards, he led the way and they toted me across the room – my arms stretched side to side like I was crucified; my body upright from head to butt, my legs and feet horizontal and in front of me. Squirming in this position did me no good, especially when Burt gripped my calves in his paws and locked my ankles between his upper-arms and flanks.
And so, I looked across the room, inspecting what awaited me.