He recognized the figure at once as Blackrain, Underby’s hired goon. Hastening his pace, he lowered the brim of his hat some, and tried to make his way past quickly. At this time of night, he was the last person Berithos wanted to meet at the edge of a dark alley.
As he passed the hulking figure, it spoke. “Whatch ya don’t trip none goin’ up them stairs in yer dark glasses, doc. That’d be a right shame.”
“Stay away from me, Blackrain.” he said, in a low growl.
Bib moved forward from where he had been leaning. Grey rain dripped from the long lank hair hanging in his face. “You givin’ me orders now? Ya think fit t’tell me what t’do an what not t’do?” He had moved slightly in front of the doctor as he said these words.
“You and I have no business together.”
“Givin’ me orders ain’t bizness? Cause it sure sounds like bizness ta me.”
Berithos pivoted, and walked around the wall of a man.
“Don’tcha dare walk away when I’m talkin atcha…” the figure growled as it grabbed the back of the doctor’s coat and swung him into a brick wall. Stars exploded in the doctor’s vision, and his dark-smoked spectacles skittered away in the rainy gloom. Either the giant didn’t notice his strange eyes, or simply didn’t care. He lifted the doctor up and sunk huge meaty fists into his midsection repeatedly, grunting with satisfaction as each punch went home. Berithos slumped to the ground, half conscious, and was rewarded for the effort with a volley of bootings to the midsection.
Dr Berithos laid against the bottom of the wall, and some cold distant part of his mind clinically diagnosed himself with at least a few broken ribs, and based on his breathing, possibly a collapsed lung. To be honest, he was a little disappointed with Blackrain’s performance. This was little more than an average sized man could accomplish.
Bib loomed over him, rain falling down from him onto the doctor. Berithos opened his eyes, and croaked out: “You… missed a… spot.”
Bib’s large boot came down swiftly onto the doctor’s right hand, and twisted savagely. The pain was instantaneous, and must have caused him to blackout momentarily as the next thing he knew Bib was down on all fours and had him by the hair on the back of his head, growling into his face: “I hope yer fond o’ Mizz Star, doc, cause yer gonner be her personal guard from now on… cause I swear, iffin she so much as slips an’ falls on a cobble stone, I come after you. Hear me? An, believe me, doc… they won’t find a single piece of ya.”
Bib let his head go and wiped his hands on his pant legs with distaste, then disappeared into the grey rain.