You can't see a thing. A musty black cloth bag, smelling of sweat and fear, covers your whole head; making it impossible to see where you are. You can only assume you must be several floors below ground level. This based on the fact that you have been roughly drug down several flights of steps by the two large thugs on either side of you.
At the bottom of the most recent flight, you hear a door being opened in front of you, just before your ears are assailed by the pleas and lamentations of what must be dozens of men. It is difficult to make out over the din, but you manage to recognize the voices of young boys mixed in as well.
You are horrified by the thought of the type of place you are being drug into, and renew your previously abandoned struggling with all your remaining might. The thugs are unimpressed by you efforts, however, and easily haul you forward toward your fate.
Suddenly, you feel the ground leave you as you are hurled through the air, until you are suddenly stopped by a hard concrete floor.
As you hear the door slam shut in front of you, you come to realize that your hands are no longer bound. They must have cut the ropes in they same motion as they through you into the cell. Quickly you remove the bag from your head and have a look around.
You are in a small concrete cell, roughly three paces across in both directions, and just tall enough to stand in without hitting your head. A solid steel door with a barred window in it (currently closed with a steel shutter) prevents your escape. The rooms only features are a dim bare bulb recessed into the ceiling above you, and a bucket in the corner, which you presume is to do your business in.
You sigh and sit on the floor with you back against the wall, realizing that there is nothing to do at this point but sit and wait.