It was a foggy night in Wheatstone, soft lights drifting casually down the canals as a small steamship drifted along. A pair of men pushing the great machine forward by means of long planks. They continued down the canals, having some trouble turning the corners. Bickering in whispered breaths, Swearing, growing louder then quickly dying out as one of them realizes that the waking of the city is best avoided.
They travel slowly, the crates in their hold clacking and clattering together as they move about. Eventually they stop underneith a warehouse spanning across the canal, they shift a further bit down before spotting a makeshift tower, a bright, nearly unnatural green lamp hanging from the top. They softly call out in greeting, and an ebon rabbit tosses them a rope. They tether their boat, and start to hoist the crates upward. The light dances across the water, the markings of an asian tongue come into view… Little else is recognizable aside from the name of a city, “Steelhead.” can be read.
Inside the building another gentleman observes out a side door as the crates are loaded onto the land. Smoke softly wafting from his nostrils, an emrald light eminating from his brass eye. He emerges from the building as the other rabbit finishes his work. He takes the cigarette holder from his lips, softly calling to the men as they begin to cast off, making a much louder journey back to the port to start their trip home. “Do take care gentlemen, and give the Oyabun my regards.”
And with a chuckle, the young lapine turned around and retreated back into his abode.