Stopping to look in a window.

Vincenti had been told to stay back and observe from a distance, if things got hot, call the Muzo brothers, but above all, stay low and out of sight. A lukewarm rain was drenching everything as it came in off the bay in clinging oily sheets.

Arthur was walking as fast as he could to keep up with the suited goons who were "escorting" him, his short little legs an almost comical flurry of movement.

Vincenti stopped to look in a window, making a play to look like he was merely window shopping. He had to be sure to stay far enough back not to be spotted. Granted, with the rain this hard, everyone's eyes were down, hands on hats trying to stay dry. But, on the other hand, no one was window shopping right now either. Half a block back, Vincenti half caught a look that turned his blood to ice. Someone was tailing him, tailing Arthur, and by the look of things he'd been made.

Vincenti fingered the gem in his pocket, debating whether or not to call for help now even though he wasn't sure yet where the goons were taking Arthur.

"Fortune favors the bold my friend." Vincenti said to no one in particular and made his way to the shadows across the street, letting Arthur out of his sight for a second and taking a calculated risk to verify if he was or was not being followed.

He bolted through horses and oxen across the street from one flickering pool of lamp light to another one caddy corner away and pretended to dart from awning to the next.

Had it been his imagination? Had the man in the bowler hat half a block back really made eye contact with him then look away?

Vincenti cursed as he had lost track of Arthur. The rain coming down was thick enough to obscure details more than a block away.

Which way had they gone? Where was the man in the bowler hat?

Traffic had let up only slightly, Vincenti was frantically searching for the two big figures escorting Arthur. The skies lit up white, then bluish green as lightning arced across the clouds. It was enough to spot the trio again, and with that he was off. They were definitely heading to the Trident, although he was pretty sure of that before now anyway.

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"I can tell this is going to be one of those trips, you being the strong silent types and all, but isn't there any way I could convince you to hail us a ride of some sort?"

The two thugs didn't even look at him as they continued marching Arthur down the sidewalks. He risked a sidelong glance to see if Vincenti was still following them. His heart quickened as he realized Vincenti was nowhere to be seen. They were walking quickly although Arthur wasn't sure if it was for the comfort of the goons to get out of the rain or merely because they were running late. All he knew was that his legs and knees were aching horribly. Arthur had been bred for many things, walking any sort of distance wasn't one of them.

"Are we going to the Trident? If so, I implore that if you or your bosses need me in any sort of speaking facility I need to be dry and..."

The goons had stopped in front of a set of stairs heading down below the level of the walkway. The first goon went down the stairs without a word.

"So we're not going to the Trident eh?"

Arthur was more body checked than escorted down the the stairs. He missed the first two steps, landing painfully on his right ankle on the 3rd and grasped for a handrail that was not there. A large hand grabbed the back of his coat, righting him then made sure he knew his only direction was down the stairs.

He limped down the stairs into murky water that was shin deep, just as the first goon was opening a door with a large anchor drawn on it. Inside, in candle lit gloom was a long oak bar, a smoke stained mirror taking up most of the wall behind it. Gas sconces sputtered a blue tinge to the scene.

The bar was empty save for the bartender, mop and bucket in hand trying to get water from the floor into a drain. There couldn't have been as much water in the stairwell heading down to this door as there was actually in the bar. The entire floor had 2-3 inches of water covering it and by the sweat on the forehead of the bartender, Arthur guessed he had been at this for hours.

The goons went through the bar to the back room without so much as even looking at the bartender, and to the bartender's credit aside from the quick glance up when the door had opened, he was now conspicuously focused on his mopping.

It was at that heartbeat skipping moment Arthur realized exactly how much trouble he was in.

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Vincenti crept towards the stairwell. The man in the bowler hat hadn't reappeared, but nonetheless Vincenti wasn't taking any chances. The rain had begun to let up, leaving a rainbow stain on everything even in weak, cloud-filtered moonslight.

There didn't seem to be enough activity coming from the bar to go in, unnoticed so he hesitated at the top of the stairs. Suddenly his vision went white as a deafening thump and a splitting pain invaded his consciousness.

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Vincenti awoke under a heap of greasy went trash. An export pipe sent a steady stream of offal onto him. Salty air coming off the bay implied proximity to the Bay and the wharfs.

Something scuttled out of his mouth and down his neck. His left ear was ringing and as he pushed hair out of his eyes he noticed his fingers came back covered in blood.

He had a clear view of the now cleared sky. Fullo shining full and bright lighting up the docks in a gray ghost light. Little Fulla and Fora were no longer next to Fullo, which means he must have been out for at least two hours. Cursing he went for the panic gem in his pocket. Gone. His wallet, papers, everything were gone. It was as he tried to stand up he felt the sharp pain from his ribs. Clearing off detritus and a myriad of scurrying things on and in his clothes, he saw the knife hilt glint in the darkness, just to the left of his sternum.

There was a commotion from up ahead. The goons were back, on a nearby dock with a third member of their silent trio, and they had a burlap sack wrapped in a thick black blanket. Something was struggling in the bag and Vincenti prayed it wasn't Arthur. The party was heading to a boat, Vincenti made note of the name: Wonsoon.

Movement caught his eye. Someone else was watching the trio. The mystery visitor skulked off into the darkness.

Vincenti decided to cut his losses and report back. This was not going to go well.