Chapter Text
The first thing Arthur registered was the chill. Though far from the bitter burn of New England winter, the brisk, damp cold seeped into his much-abused bones. He shivered slightly as a breeze passed over his prone form, carrying a familiar, sharp scent past his nostrils.
Arthur inhaled. The odor of salt was strong, layered with a subtly fetid, fishy stink he inevitably associated with the horror beneath the hotel. Near water, then. Listening, he could hear the rhythmic whisper of moving water and the strident cries of faraway seabirds. He sniffed again. An astringent flash of diesel and metal, redolent of long nights kicking down doors in the Arkham dockyards. Probably an urban area. Maybe even New York still. It would be just like Kayne to talk up some grand quest then send them right back where they started.
Grunting, Arthur heaved himself onto his knees, then to his feet. The wood beneath his hand was worn smooth with age and weather, and spotted with patches of slimy algae. He could feel the damp through the knees of his trousers. He opened his eyes, feeling the sting of the salty breeze.
“John?” Arthur didn’t know whether he hoped or feared to be met with silence.
“Arthur. We appear to have found ourselves on a long wooden wharf. It is nighttime, but I can see what I assume are city lights in the distance, as well as a few well-illuminated boats. The colors are vibrant, Arthur, maybe even more so than in New York. There are some buildings by the dock, warehouses and the like. They might be abandoned; I can’t say for certain.”
“I see. Anything to indicate where we are? What city?” Arthur turned his head for a wider view.
“No. As much as this city seems aglow with neon, there are no legible signs I can see. Looking more closely, though, there’s a ship docked at a pier about a hundred yards to our left. It’s painted a deep crimson, and there’s a large paddle wheel on the rear end. It looks like a steamer.”
“Hmph. Well, let’s go in that direction, then. Better than standing here twiddling our thumbs.” Keep moving. Always keep moving. Anything but stewing in this terrible silence that wasn’t.
“Arthur…” But then there it was. “Arthur, I’m sor--”
“Save it.” Arthur spat.
“Arthur--” There was something vulnerable in John’s voice, a kind of kicked-dog whine. Arthur felt a flare of unreasoning anger rise in his gut. How dare he come crawling back after what he’d done, whimpering and begging forgiveness? Arthur wanted to reach out and crush that vulnerability, that weak unshelled mollusk of a thing, wanted to feel the slime of its guts on both his hands.
“I said save it, John. I don’t want your empty apologies. Not for this. Let’s just keep moving.”
The silence was back. The gulls’ cries, the distant dockworkers’ shouts, and the more distant rumble of motors were all the louder for the lack of John’s deep baritone. The scuff of Arthur’s shoes against the dock was deafening.
“We’re getting closer to the ship.” Arthur felt a flash of cruel satisfaction at the hesitancy in John’s voice. “I can see the dockhands more clearly now, moving like ants as they load it with crate after crate. They’re dressed strangely. All red leather and crisscrossing chains over their worn workman’s trousers. Many of the men --and it’s mostly men-- go shirtless, revealing vibrant purple tattoos. We should look closer. There’s a stack of barrels to your right, large enough to easily conceal you.”
Arthur hesitated for the barest second before complying with the unspoken suggestion. As much as his contrarian instincts urged him to refuse to take so much as a step on John’s orders, they had to keep moving forward.
He leaned against the barrels, affecting a disinterested, vaguely intoxicated slouch. Parker’s lessons flickered through his mind: best to be boring, quotidian, beneath notice. No sense in being caught out for obvious snooping without even a clue whether they were even in the right place. Arthur fumbled in his coat pocket for a cigarette, hoping to add to the illusion, but before he could dig out a last crumpled smoke, his cold fingertips brushed a crisp slip of paper. Too crisp to have been there long.
“Read this to me.”
John’s hand snaked out of the other coat pocket, taking the slip from Arthur’s fingers.
“Holding it up to the dim, yellowish dock lights, I can distinguish writing. It’s not in English, but I can read it.”
“Something you encountered as the King in Yellow?”
“No. Maybe. I’m not sure. I still don’t remember everything about my time as…him.”
“So, what does it say?”
“‘Master Chen has personally invited you to participate in his Tournament of Elements. Secrecy is of the utmost importance. To the victor go the spoils.’ And then a symbol -- the intricate starburst design of the Order of the Fallen Star. Arthur, it says to meet at a pier at midnight. It could be--”
“That we’re already here. Perhaps you were right about getting a closer look. I’ll--” A loud crack split the air, and Arthur felt a flash of heat against his hand. The air filled with a sweet yet acrid scent he couldn’t place, like incense cut with car exhaust. He coughed.
“Arthur, the note has exploded in a wisp of smoke.”
Arthur ducked deeper behind the barrels, curling himself up beneath the damp Order robe. No sounds of commotion. No sounds of discovery. Good. “Does it look like any of the deckhands have spotted us?”
“No. It doesn’t seem like anyone even registered the flash or the noise.”
Rising to a crouch, Arthur peeked over the edge of the nearest barrel, its scarred wood and rusty bands rough against his fingers.
“Arthur, it looks like the deckhands are nearly finished loading the ship. With a closer look, it is clear that their strange clothing isn’t just a fashion choice, but something of a uniform. Even the tattoos all share a common design -- intricate, heavily stylized snakes.”
“Cultists,” Arthur hissed. Of course it had to be cultists. Combined with the note, though… It could be an encouraging sign. Birds of a fanatical feather tended to flock together, or at least be at each other’s throats consistently enough for a connection to be easily established. But then the question remained: was this new snake-sect related to the Order of the Fallen Star or was it an entirely different beast?
Arthur was aroused from his reverie by the sound of voices behind him. He dropped into a crouch, trusting the deep shadows to protect him from notice.
“Arthur, four men are approaching from behind. They’re young, maybe not even out of their teens--”
“Shh! I’m trying to hear!” Arthur fought to keep his voice to a low whisper. He tilted his head toward the indistinct voices, straining his ears until the distant murmuring resolved itself into words.
“...really think this Master Chen knows where Zane is?”
That name again. There was something there, Arthur just knew it, if he could only figure out what it all meant.
“I don’t know, Jay. I don’t know if he’s even alive, but this is the only lead we’ve got.” The second voice rang more clearly than the first as the group passed Arthur’s hiding place
“Kai’s right.” The third speaker was younger than the others if Arthur had to guess, but with some unaccountable authority. “If there’s even the slightest chance that Zane’s alive, we have to do everything in our power to bring him home. Even if this does turn out to be a trap.”
“No man left behind,” the final member of the group added, his voice becoming muddled as the distance between Arthur and the young men grew. Arthur released the breath he’d been holding as they passed out of earshot.
He once again rose to his haunches, letting John see over the crates. For his part, John seemed to take this as a signal.
“The men are approaching the dock where the red ship is moored. Others are amassed there now. In addition to the tattooed dockworkers from earlier, several eclectically-dressed individuals are milling about. Most carry suitcases or large cylindrical bags with shoulder straps, although a few make do with only smaller backpacks. None of them move to get on the ship. It seems like they’re waiting for something.”
“Well, John,” Arthur’s lips curled into a sardonic grin as he spoke. “It seems we’ve found the tournament of elements.”