Anatoly "Oh, poor guy! " I started to wake up , the pain in my head feels like a needle case , stabin' pain . I was in a darkened room and I was sat in an old wooden chair , tied my hands. Cotton tape cuts my blood's flow . And there 's Anatoly , nicked as "Oh! poor guy", really you don't wanna know Why, Anatoly Rostropóvich was a russian inmigrant in the lowlife in a District of New York. amply known in NYPD. I don't know What devils he babbled in his mother tongue . I only know that he threatened ,kindly , my affable knees to create a new axis with the drill. That was something that i couln't allow, I Gotta go out quickly from this dirty and greasy room . the deep smell of Vodka blinded my mind . But I managed to reach the old bottle Stanivskaya , While Anatoly went out from the room. Just in case, in an intensive effort , i held on the bottle in my feet.... to be continued?